


Beyond the Glass Sky

by Kirathaune



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirathaune/pseuds/Kirathaune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inside the Togenkyo Domes, Musicians are forced to use their magic to create luxuries for the rich. When Composer Koryu Genjo takes his Ranking test, his answers set a secret plan in motion that will change everything he knows about the Domes, his father, and the mysterious energy source that powers their magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 7th Night Smut gift!fic exchange on Dreamwidth, for the prompt “Music as magic."

Part One: Inception

~.~.~

Koryu Genjo glanced at the time display on the wall for the umpteenth time and scowled. Three hours. He’d been sitting here, outside his father’s office, for three fucking hours.

“When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he demanded of the secretary who sat placidly at the desk in front of Koumyou’s inner office. “Since when do I receive an official summons to report here? And for that matter, since when do I have to wait like this to see my father?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, Genjo, but he insisted that that you wait out here.”

“And when am I getting back my score? And my notes?” _That_ still rankled; his best score—the one that got him his Koryu rank—taken from him at the end of his Ranking exam like it had been an overdue school assignment.

She shook her head again.

Genjo returned to fuming. He stared out the reception room’s window, and when he saw the simulated sky begin to darken he checked the time once more. At this rate he was going to be late for the evening’s concert. He didn’t have to worry about the goon squad coming after him—a summons from a Sanzo was not to be ignored, and it superseded a Musician’s regular performance requirements. But tonight one of his other scores was being performed for the first time, and it irked him that he would miss out on hearing his music fill the temple’s concert auditorium, and miss feeling the magic rise _from_ him, through him, and permeate every inch of the room while he and the others played.

Magic was part of the other performances that he played in, of course, but the energy that came from his own music felt incredible, and it made the whole shitty thing worthwhile. 

An intercom on the secretary’s desk buzzed. “Ellora? You can send Genjo in.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She then rose from her chair and walked to the inner office’s door and faced Genjo. “Koryu Genjo. Sanzo Koumyou will see you now. You may proceed.” She opened the door.

What the hell with all the formality? Genjo thought. He had never seen the woman act this way before, in all the years she had worked for his father. He rose from his seat and stomped into the office. “Dad, what the hell—”

He stopped in the doorway. Before him, the ghostly outlines of a miniature town flickered, rising from the glowing spells that were scribed into the score that lay unfurled on Koumyou’s desk.

His score.

“Hello, Genjo,” Koumyou said. “This is exquisite work.”

Genjo plopped down in the chair opposite the desk. “Thanks,” he said. “Dad, what the hell is going on?”

“I wanted to see it again for myself, before the Triumvirate appears—they’re going to be here any minute now. This is the work you submitted two weeks ago for your Ranking, was it not?”

“Yes.” Genjo frowned; the old man was taking the long way. The mention of the Triumvirate had him even more puzzled; weren’t they the people his father reported to?

“No wonder you were the only Composer in your class to make Koryu rank.” Koumyou traced the translucent edges of a tapering spire, and then he got up to make some tea. 

Genjo watched him prepare two cups; as always, Koumyou made it the old-fashioned way, ignoring the foodsynth station that was installed in the corner of the room. “I had a good teacher,” he said. He thought it odd that Koumyou was only making two cups; maybe the Triumvirate people preferred coffee.

Koumyou smiled. “I had a good student.”

“Dad.” Genjo leaned forward in his chair. “If you wanted to see this you could have just asked. Why did I get a formal summons, and why wasn’t my score returned when everyone else’s was?”

“We have to do this one by the numbers, my boy,” Koumyou said, and after he handed Genjo a cup of tea he sat back down in his chair. “I don’t want any accusations of favoritism, and I want this evaluation to go in our favor.”

“Favoritism? For what? You had nothing to do with my achieving Koryu rank.” Genjo sipped at the steaming brew. “And what evaluation?”

Koumyou smiled. “I’m very proud of what you have done, and even prouder that you have accomplished it on your own. But while a Sanzo can make a Composer a Conductor, they must petition the Triumvirate to elevate a Conductor to Sanzo rank.”

_Conductor? Sanzo rank?_ Genjo’s mouth dropped open.

“That got your attention, didn’t it?” Koumyou grinned widely at him.

“But…” Genjo frowned. “It takes _years_ before a Composer can even think about applying to rise to Conductor—and there are only what, a handful of Sanzo-rank Conductors?”

“There are only five authorized Sanzo Conductors at any given time,” Koumyou replied.

“And you want to make _me_ one of them?” 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because of this,” Koumyou said, waving a hand at the shimmering score on his desk. “Tell me, what made you choose this particular project? Most new Composers score the ‘New Dome Expansion,’ or the always-popular ‘Luxury Resort Dome.’ Some choose the ‘Revitalization’ project, creating a score to revamp a dome that has fallen into neglect and decay.” He pointed at Genjo. “But you… you chose to build a city _outside_ of the domes. Very, very few Composers take on the ‘Out of the Domes’ project. Why did you?”

Genjo glanced around the room. “Can we be overheard here?”

“I’d like to see someone try,” Koumyou said, with a small smile. 

Genjo turned the cup around in his hands and studied the pale liquid within. “I chose that project because even though it’s impossible, it’s the only one that’s important.” He took another drink of his tea; he had to admit, it tasted better than what came out of any foodsynth. “On the surface, it seems like Musicians live a privileged life; we are exempt from the Personal Tax, and we are housed for free in the Temples—and fed, too, if you like foodsynth fare.” He stared at a tiny leaf that had floated to the surface of his tea. “Depending on their status, they can earn a very good living from contract work.”

“But?” Koumyou watched him intently.

“But… we’re not allowed to leave the Temples, are we? Not for any great length of time. Most Musicians have what, five mandatory performances a week? Even as a Composer I have to show up and play at three, and I have mandatory quotas for how many scores I have to produce a week. If a Musician fails to show up for those mandatory performances, they are tracked down and brought back, and I’ve seen the way a few of those people look.” He held up his wrist, and the light from Koumyou’s lamp played over the lines of his barcode tattoo. “This makes people very easy to find, since you can’t do much or go very far without scanning it.”

“Yes,” Koumyou agreed, and there was a flicker of something dark in his normally affable expression. “Go on.”

“We are essentially slaves,” Genjo said. “From the time our musical ability is discovered, we are forced to play, to perform, to create magic to power projects in the central Domes. My magic is used to make ridiculous luxury getaways and play-houses for the rich people of Central Dome, while people in the outermost domes live in houses that are falling apart around them.” He gestured at the glowing scroll. “This is a way out—not just for us, but for those people, too. Or would be, if it was possible to live outside the domes.”

Koumyou leaned back in his chair. “What if it were possible?”

“To live Outside?”

“Yes.”

Genjo frowned at him. “If it’s possible, then why aren’t we making it happen?”

Koumyou steepled his fingers together and rested his chin on them. “Something like that must be done with care. Changing the status quo could be considered subversion, and there are many birds here who like their gilded cage.”

This was a different side of Genjo’s father, one he never knew existed. He stared at the man across from him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I love you, son, but I couldn’t be completely sure of you. Until this.”

Genjo’s gaze was drawn back to the ghostly town, and a great many things suddenly became clear. “You added this to the Kouryu test.”

His father grinned. “Not just me. And not just the Koryu test. A version of this exists in every one of the major Musician rank exams.”

“Like a secret password.”

“Exactly. Only someone with true interest would choose that option in the exams.” Koumyou rose and picked up his cup.

Genjo handed him his empty cup. “So you’re sure of me now?” 

Koumyou took it and ruffled his hair. “I hoped you would end up here, and you did not disappoint me.”

Genjo watched him take the cups to the tiny sink that was built into the foodsynth unit. “Dad, about going Outside—”

He was interrupted by the jangling of many bells, and a flash of light that made him raise a hand to shield his eyes.

“WE ARE HERE TO EVALUATE YOUR PETITION, SANZO KOUMYOU.”

Genjo slowly lowered his hand. Standing in front of Koumyou’s desk was a hologram, clad in long robes. The shimmering figure flickered every few seconds, cycling through three different appearances—one male, one female, and one that appeared androgynous. Was that the Triumvirate? The approval process for high-level scores was a convoluted one, with several different levels of access depending on a Composer’s rank. The Triumvirate was the interface of the highest level of the Tenkai computer system, and only Sanzo-ranked Conductors had access to present the scores they deemed worthy of review.

They were here to see _his_ score, Genjo realized, and the thought made it suddenly a little more difficult to breathe. 

Koumyou inclined his head in a bow. “Thank you for coming.” He gestured toward Genjo. “This is Koryu Genjo,” he said, and then he pointed at his desk. “This is the score he created for his Koryu rank test. I feel that his talent is worthy of not only changing his position to Conductor, but to make him Sanzo rank as well.”

“THAT IS QUITE A JUMP, SANZO KOUMYOU. GENJO IS YOUNG, AND HAS JUST ATTAINED KORYU COMPOSER RANK.” Even as it spoke, the hologram glided over to Koumyou’s desk and began to study Genjo’s scroll.

“He chose the ‘Outside the Domes’ scenario,” Koumyou said. “And his reasoning for his choice resonates with our goal.”

A now-female face peered at Koumyou, and then focused on Genjo. “INTERESTING. THE GODDESS KNOWS OF THIS?”

“Yes, and I mentioned the possibility of Genjo’s elevation to her. The timing is perfect.”

The face flickered and became a haughty male. “WE DO NOT ELEVATE BASED ON TIMING. WE ELEVATE THOSE WHO ARE WORTHY OF DIRECT ACCESS TO THE TENKAI SYSTEM, AS WELL AS ACCESS TO THE GOKU POWER LOCUS.”

Genjo didn’t know that computer interfaces could be snitty. 

Koumyou waved his hands. “I would never waste your time with an unworthy candidate.”

“ALSO, IT HAS NOT ESCAPED OUR ATTENTION THAT GENJO IS YOUR FOSTER SON.”

Genjo bit his lip in an effort to suppress a snort. Now, some of grumbling comments his father had made over the years about the ‘talking heads’ made complete sense.

“He is,” Koumyou replied, “but I would not put him forward for this position if his talent was insufficient. Look at what he has made! Look at this town!” Koumyou walked back to his desk and stood next to the translucent figure. “It takes full advantage of the site we chose, and allows for efficient, yet comfortable living spaces.” He pointed at several places in the score. “Both wind and solar capture for energy here, and it takes full advantage of the valley’s river. And it is beautiful.”

“THIS IS AN AMBITIOUS PROJECT. IT WILL REQUIRE THE HIGHEST LEVEL OF MUSICIANS.”

Koumyou rolled open a smaller scroll that contained Genjo’s project notes, and touched a number of spots on the crisp, white notation stock. Several digitized portraits appeared and hovered above the scroll.

“This is Hakkai, Cho rank. His specialty is stringed instruments, and he is not only proficient in handling architectural scores, but he is able to play healing music as well. He is highly organized and will make a superb Concertmaster. Gojyo, Sha rank, is very skilled in all percussion and has a reputation for solid infrastructure. Goujun here is Haku rank and is a genius with woodwind instruments; I have worked with him in some of the restoration projects in the Southern Dome. And over there is Kougaiji, Gyu rank—I’ve never heard anyone play brass instruments like he does. Those are the section leaders; Genjo has chosen other very competent Musicians to fill out the sections of his Orchestra.”

“Wait a minute,” Genjo said, rising from his chair, “those people are real? 

“Yes,” Koumyou said. 

The hologram switched to the androgynous aspect, and they carefully examined the glowing portraits. After a few minutes, they drifted over to where Genjo stood. “YOU MADE EXCELLENT CHOICES IN YOUR MUSICIANS, AND WE HAVE NOTED THAT YOUR WORK HAS BOTH BEAUTY AND POWER IN IT.” The face became female, and she tilted her head and regarded Genjo. “WE APPROVE THE CHANGE OF YOUR STATION AND RANK. DO YOU AGREE TO THIS ELEVATION?”

Genjo felt Koumyou’s gaze on him. “Yes,” he said.

“SANZO RANK GIVES YOU DIRECT ACCESS TO THE SPIRITUAL ENERGY OF THE GOKU LOCUS, AND WILL INCREASE YOUR POWER. DO YOU ACCEPT THIS ACCESS, AND AGREE TO NOT ABUSE THE POWER IT GIVES YOU?”

Genjo glanced at Koumyou, at the small ruby receptor that had been implanted in his forehead. His father was the most powerful Musician Genjo had ever encountered, and it was no small thrill to think that Koumyou thought him worthy of joining his rank. “I do,” he said.

“VERY WELL. WE HEREBY ACKNOWLEDGE YOU AS SANZO GENJO.” A ghostly finger reached out and touched the center of his forehead.

The pain was unexpected, and excruciating. Genjo managed to not cry out, but it was a struggle to stay on his feet as power surged through him, seeking out every nerve ending and magical loci in his body. He blindly cast out for something to lean on, hold on to, and he was glad of Koumyou’s warm hand closing around his. The center of his forehead burned, making his eyes water, and when Genjo forced his eyes open he saw the visage of the Triumvirate in front of him, their faces flickering and switching so fast that they seemed to spin. Three pairs of eyes bored into his, even as the receptor seemed to be boring through to his brain.

Something touched his mind, curious, cautious, and Genjo had the strange sensation of being examined by an entirely different entity.

Just as suddenly as it came, the pain was gone. Genjo let go of Koumyou’s hand and wiped at his face with his shirt sleeve while the form of the Triumvirate returned to Koumyou’s desk. They touched the score, and for a few seconds it glowed with a blindingly bright light. 

“WE ACCEPT AND VALIDATE THIS SCORE, AND THE MUSICIANS CHOSEN TO CREATE IT.” The face became stern and masculine, and he looked over at Koumyou. “YOU REALIZE HIS REGISTRATION WILL BE INITIATED WHEN WE LOG BACK INTO THE MAIN SYSTEM. HE HAS BEEN ACCEPTED BY THE LOCUS, BUT THERE WILL BE A PROBLEM WITH ADDING HIM TO THE TENKAI SYSTEM.”

“I know,” Koumyou said. “The Goddess has spoken to her nephew about delaying the registration.”

“KONZEN IS SKILLED WITH SUCH THINGS, BUT HE CANNOT BUY YOU VERY MUCH TIME.”

Genjo frowned at the exchange. Delay his registration? Why? He decided not to think too hard about it, because although the pain of implanting the receptor was gone, his head was still throbbing and there was an unpleasant buzz in the back of his head that refused to go away.

“We’ll just have to do our best,” Koumyou said. 

The Triumvirate flashed into its androgynous form. “WE WILL WAIT TO LOG IN UNTIL WE HAVE COMPLETED VISITING THE OTHER SANZOS AND REVIEWING THE REMAINING SUBMISSIONS ON OUR TASK LIST. WE ESTIMATE THAT WE CAN DELAY OUR UPLOAD TO THE MAIN SYSTEM UNTIL TOMORROW EVENING.”

“Excellent!” Koumyou made a deep, formal bow. “I thank you for your swift answer to my petition.” He kicked Genjo in the shin.

Genjo grimaced and swiftly executed a similar bow. “Thank you,” he said.

“WE WISH YOU LUCK WITH YOUR ENDEAVOR, SANZO KOUMYOU.” The shimmering form switched to its female aspect and glanced at Genjo. “AND GOOD LUCK TO YOU AS WELL, SANZO GENJO.”

Another jangling of bells, another flash of light, and they were gone.

Genjo sank back into his chair. “Dad,” he said, pressing the heel of his hand against his throbbing forehead, “give me something to drink—and it needs to be stronger than tea.”

“Certainly,” Koumyou said, and he pulled a small bottle of whiskey out of the bottom drawer of his desk.


	2. Chapter 2

After three shots of whiskey the pain in Genjo’s forehead eased down to a dull throb, and the buzz at the base of his skull had faded to a muted whine.

He and Koumyou both leaned back in their chairs, nursing their drinks while they propped their feet up on Koumyou’s desk. Genjo’s score rested on a stack of books, next to its case. 

Genjo sipped at his fourth glass instead of gulping it down. “You could have warned me, you know,” he said.

Koumyou took a swallow from his own drink. “Honestly, Genjo, I didn’t know what to expect. It’s not just being approved by the Triumvirate; they implant the receptor and validate the rank, but the Locus has to accept and complete the connection for the receptor to be activated. You are technically a sixth Sanzo, and there was the possibility that the Locus wouldn’t connect with you.”

“Like that one guy, Sanzo Ukoku? I always though it was strange that his receptor is just clear glass.”

Koumyou shrugged. “His is an unusual situation, and very disappointing, since I always thought he was one of my best students. You’re right, his receptor never activated—but he is still able to draw on the Locus’ power. I’ve yet to figure out how he does it, and he’s not inclined to share.” He glanced at the faintly glowing ruby of Genjo’s receptor. “I’m glad GOKU accepted you.”

Genjo snorted. “You talk like he’s still a person. According to my History professor, GOKU was converted not long after the NATAKU Locus, just after the Bodhisattvas were installed.” He looked at the amount of liquor in his glass, decided it wasn’t enough, and reached for the bottle to pour a little more.

Koumyou’s lips pursed in disapproval. “I think it’s important to remember that those young men were alive, and human, five hundred years ago. The Bodhisattvas were, too, before they were transferred into the Tenkai system.” He nudged Genjo’s foot with his. “Respect, my boy.”

Genjo grunted in reply and studied the liquor in his glass. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would have been like to have your consciousness, your entire _being_ , transferred into a computer system. “Dad,” he said, “are we really going Outside?”

Koumyou grinned at him. “Yes.” He gestured at Genjo’s score. “That location is real—I’ve been to it. It’s a beautiful little valley that is hidden away in the middle of a mountain range.”

Genjo choked on his sip of whiskey. “What? You’ve been Outside?” At his father’s nod he frowned. “How the _hell_ did you do that? And how the hell could you do such an incredible thing and not tell me?”

“Like I said earlier, I had to be sure of you. This has been in the works for many years, and only a handful of people know the full details.”

“But how did you get Outside? Aren’t the access hatches locked and under guard?”

“This is where having a mainframe made of sentient modules comes in handy,” Koumyou said. “The Bodhisattvas provided us with test equipment, supplies, and the means to get through the hatches. They are an important, vital ally.”

“Who’s this ‘us?’” Genjo asked.

“Me, Sanzo Goudai and Sanzo Tenkai.” Koumyou poured another inch into each of their glasses and then he capped the bottle and put it away. “It’s not going to be an easy life,” he said, reclining back in his chair, “but it will be a free one. I think that’s worth having to grow our own food and make our own way.”

Genjo shrugged. “Shit, you and I have been eating unsynthed food—” he stopped, and stared at Koumyou. “You’ve been getting ready for this for years. Since I was little.”

Koumyou leaned forward and clicked his glass against Genjo’s. “Yes, You were getting ready too, except you didn’t realize why.”

“You sneaky bastard.”

“Why, thank you.” Koumyou drained his glass and stood. “Finish that up, and let’s go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Before you came here, I called a meeting of the other Sanzos, and let them know about your possible Elevation. Now that you’re one of us, they’ll want to meet you and see your score—there’s a lot of work to be done if we’re going to be leaving in a few days.”

“A few _days?_ ” Genjo gulped down the rest of his drink and rose as well, swaying a bit on his feet.

“Steady there, son,” Koumyou said, laughing, and he opened his office door, and motioned for Genjo to go through. “After you.”

He followed Koumyou through the maze-like hallways of the Music Temple’s administration section, pausing to scan their wrists at the Temple’s main entrance. At Koumyou’s scan the unit beeped and displayed “KOUMYOU | SANZO | #3895643,” but when Genjo held his wrist under the scanner, nothing happened.

“It’s not scanning,” he said.

Koumyou peered at the blank display. “Excellent,” he said. “I had hoped this would happen.”

“You had hoped _what_ would happen?” Sometimes Genjo swore it was like pulling teeth to get a straight answer out of the old man.

“Your status is in limbo, because your Elevation has not been registered yet. You are an invisible man for as long as Bodhisattva Konzen can delay that registration.” Koumyou grinned at him, and his smile widened when they passed under the Temple gate without a sound.

Genjo stood just outside the gate and examined the tattoo on his wrist. “A warning alarm should have gone off,” he said.

“Come on, there are people waiting for us.”

They moved briskly along the winding walkway. Genjo’s head was spinning, not just from the whiskey but from the sheer amount of life-changing events that had happened to him just within the past few hours. He was a Conductor—hell, he was a _Sanzo_ Conductor, and even more mind-blowing was learning that the father he’d always thought was just an eccentric with his ‘old-fashioned’ ways was really the mastermind of an extraordinary plan to live outside the Domes.

And Koumyou wanted to use _his_ score to create the place where they would all live.

His score, which was still on Koumyou’s desk.

“Shit,” Genjo said, and he came to a halt.

Koumyou glanced back at him. “What is it?”

“I left my score back in your office.”

Koumyou made a face. “That’s what we get for drinking.” He glanced at his wristcom. “I need to be there soon; if I’m too late it will make the others worry. You go back and get it, and then meet us at _Under the Sakura._ You remember where that is, right? I’ll message Ellora to let her know you’re coming back, and she’ll let you into my office.”

Genjo made his way back to Koumyou’s office, trying to move quickly but not in a way that would attract attention, and once again he marveled at the complete lack of response from the scanner stations. He’d spent his adult life having to scan his comings and goings, always aware of NiiCom tracking his every move through the Tenkai Systems Network, so it was more than a little unnerving to suddenly be able to travel virtually unseen. 

Ellora was waiting for him when he arrived at the office. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I noticed that you didn’t have your score when I saw you boys walking out, but I didn’t think to remind you about it.” She placed her wristcom against the door’s access panel and opened it.

“It’s not your fault,” Genjo told her while he retrieved the score.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him the embossed leather scroll case.

He thanked her, and then he slid the score inside the case and fastened it to his belt. 

It didn’t take him long to retrace his steps, and soon after he reached the spot where he’d left his father Genjo made a few turns and headed toward the bar where Koumyou and the other Sanzos were waiting. It was one of his father’s favorite places, designed with lifelike cherry trees that were constantly in bloom, scattering tiny, pink holographic petals on the tables beneath their branches. Genjo had been there enough times to remember the way without using his wristcom.

He was about to head up a flight of steps to the pavilion where the bar was located when a rumbling blast nearly knocked him off his feet. Up ahead, alarms went off, and Genjo heard shouts and screams mingled with the hiss of water sprinklers.

“Dad,” he breathed, and he took the steps three at a time and ran toward the bar.

What he found was the smoking, crumbled remains of the bar. Thick, black smoke poured out of broken windows, and chunks of patterned concrete were strewn about the pavilion, mixed with charred bits of tables and chairs. Panic tightened Genjo’s throat, and as he rushed toward the ruined building a voice stopped him.

“Genjo! Over here!”

Genjo turned, and relief flooded through him when he saw his father waving at him, filthy but alive, tending to an injured woman over in a side alley. “Dad! What happened?” He strode over to the alley, crouching down when Koumyou beckoned him closer.

“It was fucking Ukoku,” the woman said, while Koumyou worked on cleaning the burns on her face and shoulders.

“Now, Sharak, we don’t know that for sure,” Koumyou said.

She jabbed him with a filthy finger. “It was him, I’d bet my life on it. There was that fucking toy rabbit in the empty chair at our table, and I think I heard it start to play music when we were at the door. I’m telling you, it looked just like the stuffed rabbit in Ukoku’s mess of an office.” She glanced over at Genjo. “The only reason Koumyou and I are alive is that we went outside to meet you.” Tears ran in a sooty trail down her cheek. “Goudai and Tenkai didn’t make it.” She turned her attention back to Koumyou. “We aren’t going to be able to do this,” she said. “How can we do this, without Goudai and Tenkai? And now we know for damned sure that Ukoku is trying to stop us.”

Koumyou dabbed at the puckered burn on her cheek. “We have to do this, my dear,” he said, “otherwise their deaths will be meaningless.”

“But how are we going to have enough power? There’s only two of us now.”

“Three,” Koumyou said, nodding his head toward Genjo, “and he is currently unscannable. Also, Ukoku doesn’t know about his elevation, so if your theory is correct—”

“You know I’m right, Koumyou.”

Koumyou sighed. “You probably are.” He put a hand on Genjo’s arm. “Genjo, you must go and access the Goddess in the Music Library.”

Genjo frowned. “How is Kanzeon—”

“Don’t interrupt, we don’t have much time. Go see Kanzeon. She will have learned about this by the time you get there, and hopefully she can process some alternatives for us so that we can keep moving forward. Sharak and I will get everyone ready, and I’ll contact you or Kanzeon as soon as I can.”

“But, Dad—”

“Go!” Koumyou gave Genjo a small push. “If we don’t do this now, Genjo, it will never happen.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was a surreal trip back to the Music Temple. 

Mayhem surrounded him. People crowded the walkways, trying to get a glimpse of the still-smoking bar, while emergency workers pushed past to get to the blast site. Dome Security personnel were everywhere, stopping people to ask questions, and Genjo stayed well clear of them. While he walked, the alarms echoed in his head, and the acrid, smoke-filled air that permeated the area. He made his way to one of the Temple’s side gates, and he couldn’t help holding his breath while he walked under the gate and past the scanning station.

The Music Library rose from the center of the Temple grounds, a tower of gleaming, polished white granite that stood out from the the dull gray of the other Temple buildings. Genjo went inside, and after passing yet another silent scanning station, he took a lift tube down to the Reference Department.

Like a book library, Dome Music libraries had scores that were not permitted to be removed from the premises, or a Composer might wish to examine an old score that was stored in the Central Archive. The Reference department was designed to accommodate both needs, with a warren of soundproofed study cubicles that took up over half of the bottom-most floor of the Library. Genjo had a favorite cubicle there, in the far back of the department; he liked it because most students didn’t like walking back that far, so he was seldom interrupted.

He closed the door and flipped the ‘Do Not Disturb’ switch. He sat down at the spartan white table and was about to switch on the Helpdesk panel on the wall when he heard a faint jingling of bells, similar to what he’d heard earlier when the Triumvirate had appeared in Koumyou’s office. A woman materialized in the room, and perched on the edge of his desk.

“Kanzeon?” Genjo rolled his chair back in surprise, and then he jerked a thumb at the Helpdesk screen. “Don’t you normally live in there? I’m not used to seeing… this much of you.” _Too_ much, in Genjo’s opinion; even in hologram form, her sheer gown left nothing to the imagination.

The Goddess of Music smirked at him. “Even a hologram is entitled to stretch her legs now and then. And what do you care? Whenever I’ve peeked in here I haven’t seen you making out with girls.” She waved off his sputtering response, and then her expression turned serious. “I heard about what happened, and I’ve received a brief message from Koumyou. It’s a very good thing you forgot your score, Sanzo Genjo.”

Genjo nodded. If he and Koumyou had arrived at _Under the Sakura_ together, all five of them would probably be dead. “Sharak said we won’t have enough power without Goudai and Tenkai.”

“Probably not,” Kanzeon replied. “I think Koumyou had counted on you being a replacement for Ukoku, who had no interest in leaving.”

Genjo recalled his father’s earlier words about birds who liked their cages. “So it’s hopeless, then?”

“I didn’t say that. Let’s see your score.”

Genjo removed the score from its case and rolled it out on the table. He touched the preview button on the edge of the scroll, and the ghost-city rose from the musical notation.

Kanzeon nodded in approval. “I only got a thumbnail view of this, so it’s nice to see it in person, so to speak. You did a fantastic job, kiddo, I can see why Koumyou got so excited.” She rose from the table and glided to the side opposite where Genjo sat. “One of the things that’s good about your score is the city is on the smaller side, size-wise; it doesn’t take up the whole valley.”

“I thought it made sense to allow for plenty of expansion, given the ultimate space limits of the valley itself,” Genjo said. ““How many Musicians are going, do you know?” 

The Goddess paused to calculate the answer before replying. “Three hundred ninety-one,” she said, and then she smiled at Genjo. “Correction; three hundred ninety-two.”

“So few,” Genjo said, frowning. “The town I designed will be too big for that amount of people.”

“We can make some adjustments,” Kanzeon said. She pointed to a number of locations on the scroll. “This whole area can wait, and so can this section, and this one as well. Since your design is expansion friendly, it also makes it easier to take elements away.” She studied the score for another minute before continuing, “I’m afraid you’re still probably going to need more than three Sanzos’ worth of power to build this baby. We’re going to have to get creative.”

Genjo eyed her warily. “Creative… how?”

“You could take the GOKU Locus with you.”

Genjo stared at her flickering form. “You’re crazy,” he said. “How are we supposed to take a goddamn _Locus_ with us?”

A translucent, bare shoulder lifted in a shrug. “You’d have to, ahem, borrow it from the Central Core.”

“Steal it, you mean.”

“You said that, not me. As a Tenkai Systems Network entity I would _never_ suggest such a thing.” Kanzeon winked at him.

“You’re still crazy,” Genjo said. 

Another shrug. “Look, even if you had enough power between the three of you, creating this would drain you all, and Koumyou confirmed on one of his trips that your receptors will not recharge that far away from the Locus. Without access to a Temple’s concert power grid—which again, must have access to the GOKU Locus, your music will only create illusions for the rest of your lives. Why not take the Locus with you? It will accomplish two things; it will power your project and all of your music, and it will cripple NiiCom, since without Goku, all the music in all the temples will produce nothing.”

Genjo eyed her with new respect. “I’ve never met a hologram that wanted to take down a corporation. Niicom is one of Togenkyo Domes major partners.”

Kanzeon’s eyes narrowed. “I’m still sentient, darling, and I’ve wanted to do something like this to NiiCom for the last couple of centuries. They took Goku’s sacrifice—and every Musician’s gift—and turned it into a moneymaking machine for the rich and bored. I would rather see Goku’s energy used to help you achieve your freedom.”

It was strange discussing the GOKU Locus like this, with someone who had actually _known_ the young man who had joined himself to the Tenkai network over five centuries before. Genjo knew that when Kanzeon spoke the Locus’ name, she was referring to that young man, and not the equipment that housed his physical remains and harnessed the magical energy they produced.

“So, how would I go about ‘borrowing’ this Locus?” Genjo asked. He rolled the score back up and returned it to its case.

Kanzeon looked ridiculously pleased. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said. “Koumyou’s message said that your barcode is not scanning, is this correct?”

Genjo nodded.

“Perfect. Our systems in the Central Core are self-checking, and everything is automated, so we seldom have to have a physical technician present. Since your status is not updated yet—for which we can thank my nephew Konzen—you should be able to get into the Data Center and bypass all of the scanner stations. Once you’re in the Core, we don’t have to worry about cameras, because there is too much interference. Now, I imagine that Goku will have been installed in a panel similar to ours—”

“Wait,” Genjo said, frowning, “you ‘imagine?’ Don’t you know?”

Kanzeon’s dark curls rippled as she shook her head. “We can’t see inside the Central Core. The same interference that makes cameras useless also prevents us from manifesting there. Also, I’ve always thought it would be unnerving to come face to face with the panel that contains what’s left of my physical body.” 

She pointed at the helpdesk screen and a blurred image appeared of a tall, cylindrical column, its center section ringed with five rectangular panels. “This is a very old image, from before we were installed; I managed to keep it in my personal archive all these years. NATAKU was built into the column, so I’m not sure where they put Goku.” She gestured at the picture. “I’m sure some bits are going to look different from this—after all, this image is over five hundred years old. But it will give you an idea of what to look for when you get inside the Central Core. Put out your hand, I’ll put the coordinates in your wristcom.”

Genjo extended his arm, and watched the wristcom display spin with the information that Kanzeon downloaded to it.

“Once you get the Locus unit out, come to the Central Music Archive, using access corridors only; I’ve put the navigation for that in your wristcom as well. I’m going to contact your Concertmaster and have him meet us there, and between now and then I’ll work on what will be needed to get you both Outside and to the site.” A small pack materialized on the table. “These tools should be sufficient to remove the Locus unit from any generation of mounting bracket, your wristcom has instructions. There’s also a couple of anti-gravity discs you can apply to the unit to make it easier to transport.”

Genjo blinked at the black canvas pack that hadn’t been there seconds before. “I hope your instructions are good, because I’m a Composer, not a mechanic. What about Koumyou?” he asked. “And Sharak? Aren’t I traveling with them?”

“Too much of a risk,” the Goddess said. “In light of what happened today, you all need to split up and take different paths to your destination. So Koumyou and Sharak will bring the people, and you, my darling, will bring the party.”


	4. Chapter 4

Part Two: Implementation

Genjo paused at the bottom of a stairwell to catch his breath, and he checked his wristcom to make sure he was in the right place. The last five hours had been exhausting; Kanzeon’s ‘back door’ coordinates had sent Genjo through a maze of stairs and service corridors to reach the Data Center, and now he had finally reached the lower corridor that would take him to where the Locus was housed. He left the stairwell and proceeded down the corridor with care, stopping when his wristcom navigator beeped at him. He stood before a plain metal door that had a small back sign that had the words “CENTRAL CORE” engraved on it in white block letters.

Genjo took a deep breath, and then he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

A sensor must have registered his movement, though; lights flickered on, bathing the chamber in a sickly, greenish-white light. All around him Genjo could hear the hum of hundreds of cooling fans, and the faint clicking of the myriad hard drives that made up the Central Core. The buzzing at the base of his skull intensified, and the spot where his receptor was implanted prickled uncomfortably. The raw power in the room felt thick and close as Genjo carefully made his way toward the center of the room.

_This is definitely the place._

The _clack_ of Genjo’s boots on the steel catwalk echoed through the room as he walked down a short, narrow corridor. Before him, a circular platform rose about six feet from the main floor. Evenly spaced along the outer edge of the platform stood five tall panels, each about a man’s height and width, and less than a foot deep. They were covered with various controls and gauges, and from behind their black mesh panels a myriad of circuitry lights winked on and off. Dozens of cables ran out of the top of each panel, reaching up and across the ceiling like a network of vines. In the center was a black column that reached to the ceiling; it was covered in cables and glowing access lines, one side a ghostly blue, and the other side a pale gold. A tall band of bright, brush polished metal circled around the outside of the structure, inscribed with the words _‘For today I shall praise the deeds of the Bodhisattvas.’_

It looked similar to the image Kanzeon had shown him, so Genjo figured it had to be where the Loci were housed.

A single set of metal mesh steps took Genjo up to the platform, and he stood at the top step for a few moments and looked around, and his breath caught in surprise when he saw a young man seated only a few feet away in a throne-like chair that was built into the center column, which Genjo could now see was actually made of the same blank granite as the panels. The figure in the chair was pale and motionless, his eyes open and empty of any spark of life. He was clothed in old-looking robes, and his hands and feet were encased by metal enclosures that had clusters of flickering blue conduit plugged into them. Most of the cables ran up the column, mixing with other cables and disappearing into the tangled web of power lines in the darkness above. What was left snaked out across the metal floor and connected with each of the tall, rectangular panels. Above the seated figure, a name was engraved into the high back of the stone throne: NATAKU.

Genjo recognized the name from his earlier instruction from the Goddess, but he frowned as he regarded the still form in front of him. She had spoken of the two Loci as if they were things, machine parts that could be disconnected and removed—but this was not a machine. Or was it? The young man appeared human, but he had odd doll-like joints; perhaps he was an android.

Whatever he was, he was not the GOKU Locus.

Genjo carefully stepped over a few of the lines and inspected the panel nearest him, and he noticed the front side of the panel was different—instead of metal, this side was covered with a slab of black granite, and at eye level there was an image of a man’s head and upper shoulders painstakingly carved into the speckled black of the stone. Below a mop of spiky hair, the man’s face smirked at him, one eyelid creased in a hint of a wink. Genjo peered at the name that was chiseled above the icon-like face: KENREN TAISHOU. Off to the side under the name some words were scratched in the granite, and Genjo looked more closely at the faint sentence. “’The Unruly General,’” he murmured. General? He looked at the panel again. Was that General Kenren? He remembered reading about him in a history class—and that had indeed been the General’s nickname. But what was a picture of him doing here?

The next panel was only a few feet away, and it was similarly covered in black granite. The carving on this one was another man, and his shoulders sported the same epaulets as his neighbor, marking him as another military officer. This man’s eyes were hidden by glasses. Genjo looked above for his name. TENPOU GENSUI. Another historical name, another military hero.

The third panel’s figure was harder to decipher; it depicted an elderly man with a long, thin mustache; its title was JIROUSHIN. Genjo vaguely recalled reading about a well-regarded justice named Jiroushin, but since he’d not had much interest in law, that was about the extent of his memory.

He stood before the fourth panel for a long time, staring at the familiar image before him.

KANZEON BOSATSU. There was no mistaking the cascading ringlets of hair, the drooping eyes, or the smirking, knowing smile. It was definitely the Goddess. He remembered what Kanzeon had said about not wanting to see her remains, and it suddenly dawned on Genjo that he was looking at the chips and circuits that stored Kanzeon’s mind and soul, and that the other panels did the same for the others who ‘lived’ here. 

There was one more panel to examine. Stepping over more cables and access lines, Genjo noticed that most of them on this side of the platform shone with the brighter, golden light—only two were blue; one that led to the KANZEON panel, and the one before him that read KONZEN DOUJI. Another familiar name—the Triumvirate had mentioned the name Konzen Douji, and the only reason Genjo was standing here was due to help from an administrative hologram that the Goddess said was her nephew Konzen. Genjo took a closer look at the solemn, beautiful stone face; there was definitely a resemblance to the Goddess, both in hologram and granite form. 

The sensation in his skull was getting uncomfortable. Genjo rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, his fingertips massaging the sub-occipital muscles in an attempt to get some relief, and then he huffed in frustration. He had followed the Goddess’ directions, and he was sure he was in the Central Core Unit. So where the hell was the GOKU Locus?

He would just have to explore the chamber more thoroughly. Genjo turned around—

and discovered another young man bound to the central column, on the opposite side of where NATAKU sat. Genjo realized that he had been too absorbed in the granite columns to notice that there was anything on the other side.

“What the hell is going on here?” he murmured, and he stepped closer to get a better look. There was no carved nameplate here, and this side of the column told a very different story—one of imprisonment. Instead of being seated, like his counterpart, the young man in front of Genjo was standing, held against the granite with bands of iron across his waist and neck. His wrists and ankles were shackled to the column as well, and although his hands and feet were bare of enclosures, the tip of every finger and toe was enclosed in a metal cap, which had an access cable attached. This—he—was the source of the golden glow, and Genjo knew in his bones that this was also the source of the powerful energy that had coursed through him the previous evening.

The GOKU Locus.

But was he alive? This young man was unmoving, and his eyes were closed, but his skin had a healthy, living look to it. Genjo decided to check, and he reached out and pressed two fingers against a shackled throat.

There was a pulse.

A split-second later, Genjo felt a burst of energy surge through his fingers. When he pulled his hand back he saw eyelids flutter, and he was soon staring into a pair of open, golden-brown eyes.

“It’s you.” The words were spoken softly, with a voice that sounded rusty with disuse.

Startled, Genjo took a step back. _What the hell?_ “Who are you?” he asked. 

“I’m Goku,” the young man said, and he smiled. “I saw you a little while ago, when I was dreaming. But I’m not dreaming now, and you’re here!”

_”You’re_ the GOKU Locus?” The guy looked like he was barely into his twenties—and every Musician knew that the Loci had been in use for over five hundred years.

“What’s a locus?”

“A source of magical energy and power,” Genjo replied. The irony of having to tell _the_ Locus the definition of a locus to was not lost on him.

Goku looked down at himself, at the cables and access lines that were attached to him, and his gaze followed the way they criss-crossed over his body and wound, vine-like, up the column and into the darkness above. “Oh,” he said, “I guess I am, huh?” 

_The Locus is a moron,_ Genjo thought. “I came to take you out of here,” he said, “but I wasn’t expecting a person.”

“Oh,” Goku said, and his smile faltered.

The hopelessness in Goku’s expression made something clench in Genjo’s chest. “Hey,” he said, “I’m still going to get you out, it’s just going to be more of a challenge.” He was rewarded with another, brighter smile. Genjo reached for one of Goku’s hands and tried to pull off one of the metal finger cabs.

It wouldn’t budge. Genjo then examined the black iron shackle that enclosed Goku’s wrist, frowning when he saw no hinge or closure of any kind. 

Goku was silent for a moment, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “Hmm,” he said, “I remember they played music when they put all this stuff on me, and everything glowed.”

“What the hell,” Genjo said. “That’s completely fucked up, using your own energy against you.” He released Goku’s hand and then shrugged the pack of tools off his shoulder. “This only has tools in it, because I was expecting to have to disconnect a panel like the others here. I don’t have any musical instruments with me.”

Goku looked at the pack, and then back at Genjo, “Can you maybe sing? Or whistle? That’s music.”

Genjo wanted to smack himself on the forehead. Of course, any music would do! “I can’t whistle,” he said, “but I can sing. I almost applied to be a Soloist instead of a Composer, but I realized that I liked creating my own music instead of singing someone else’s.”

“Composer? Soloist?”

“Shush,” Genjo said. “I have to concentrate.” He mentally ran through his compositions, focusing on the earlier pieces, the ones he wrote before choosing to specialize in architectural music. Ah, these would do; one of their a Composer’s first projects was to set poems and other texts to music, and Genjo had chosen some ancient Buddhist sutras. The Heart Sutra was the shortest, and he had it completely memorized.

He took Goku’s hand again and began to sing, grasping a capped finger between his own thumb and forefinger while he focused on thoughts of _open_ and _release_. Goku’s hand—and the rest of him—glowed even more brightly than before, and Genjo shuddered as power surged through him, suffusing him, raising the fine hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck. The jeweled receptor in his forehead burned, and Genjo could feel his pulse throbbing in his temples.

_So this is what it’s like to work magic as a Sanzo,_ he thought. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, wracking his body with both pain and pleasure.

All five caps slipped off of Goku’s fingers, and when Genjo touched the black iron cuff it broke apart. The lines went dark.

Goku raised his now-free hand and stared at it, and then he touched Genjo’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“I’m not done yet,” Genjo said, and he reached for Goku’s other hand.

“You have a really nice voice. What’s your name?”

“Genjo. Now shut up—it’s hard enough to do this without you yammering at me.” It wasn’t so much that the magic was difficult, or remembering the music; it was more that Goku—both in power and in person—was a distraction. He resumed his song, closing his eyes to block out Goku’s luminous gaze.

Once again, the caps fell off, the iron shackle crumbled, and the golden glow of the access lines faded. While he continued singing, Genjo knelt to work on Goku’s feet, and he frowned when he saw the torn, tattered edges of Goku’s cotton pants. The fabric was rough, the kind that Genjo had seen laborers wear. What kind of work had Goku done, before he was brought here and chained to a stone pillar? The clatter of the falling metal caps echoed though the chamber. Genjo frowned when he noticed a separate line had been attached to the back of Goku’s right ankle; it seemed out of place from the others, and looked like it had been attached at a different time. Genjo sang another line of the sutra and the connector dropped onto the floor.

He rose to his feet and placed his hands on the wide, thick band of iron that encircled Goku’s waist, and when he sang the next stanza the band broke apart, sending chunks of iron scattering across the mesh platform. 

Genjo took his time with the shackle at Goku’s throat, carefully placing his hands against the cold, hard metal. While he resolutely avoided Goku’s gaze, he couldn’t help but notice the smattering of freckles across Goku’s nose, and how Goku’s teeth worried a plump, glistening lower lip. He glanced away, and focused on the iron beneath his hands, allowing himself a small smile when the band crumbled to dust beneath his fingers. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. “Looks like you’re free,” he said.

Goku took a tentative step away from the stone column, lifting his bare foot over the tangle of dead access lines and broken iron. He took another step, his face breaking into a wide, brilliant smile as he stumbled to where Genjo stood, and then he wrapped his arms around Genjo’s slender frame and embraced him.

Genjo was not prepared for a hug. He didn’t do hugs, especially not the practically bone-crushing, difficult-to-breathe variety that Goku was inflicting on him. He tried to push Goku away.

“Please,” Goku said, his breath warm against Genjo’s neck, “just a little while longer. It’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone, or could touch anyone.”

Genjo suffered the embrace, trying to ignore the way Goku’s body felt against his. Warmth and power seeped into his skin, and Genjo was surprised—and somewhat alarmed—at how his own body was responding. “How did you end up here?” he asked, in an attempt to distract himself.

“I don’t know,” Goku said. “Nataku’s father said he only needed my help for a little while, to give them some of my energy along with Nataku’s to get everything running… but then I woke up here, chained up with all those wires on me.” He looked back at the stone column. “Is Nataku still here?”

“Yes,” Genjo replied, and he was relieved when Goku released him and carefully made his way to the other side of the column. He picked up his pack and followed Goku, who now stood in front of the still figure in the chair. “Did you know him?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Goku said. “He was my friend, although he wasn’t supposed to be friends with the workers. He chose to do this—” he waved his hand at the granite panels “—although I always thought his father made him do it. Kanzeon and Konzen and the others, they all chose to become part of the Tenkai System. But I didn’t get to choose. Nataku’s father tricked me.” His hands clenched into trembling fists.

Genjo put his hand on Goku’s shoulder. “We need to go. They’ll know something is wrong when the next performance starts, which is in just a few hours. Can you walk?”

“I think so.” Goku reached out to touch Nataku’s hand, and stopped, frowning, when he encountered the metal covering. He touched his friend’s cheek instead. “Bye, Nataku,” he whispered.

“Let’s go,” Genjo said. He punched up the holo-map the Goddess had put into his wristcom and headed out of the Central Core room, listening for the soft pad of Goku’s bare feet behind him. He was glad of the small distance between them, gladder still that Goku was able to walk, even if he was still a bit unsteady on his feet. Genjo studied the map display; it was at least an hour’s trek to the Archive’s Research Room.

Genjo figured he’d need that long to get rid of the hard-on he’d had since Goku first touched him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Kanzeon!” Genjo’s shout rang though the high-ceilinged entry hall of the Central Music Archive. “You’ve got some explaining to do!” He gave Goku a gentle shove into the Archive’s waiting room, and then he slammed the door shut behind them.

The Goddess almost immediately shimmered into view behind the counter. “Darling, don’t shut the door so hard, the others will be here any sec—” She stopped, and stared at Goku. “Goku?”

Goku waved. “Hi, Kanzeon,” he said.

A wave of static rippled through her image. “I… I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought you were converted to a power unit, like Nataku.”

“As you can see, Goku was still alive, and conscious.” Genjo’s voice shook with barely suppressed fury. “I found him shackled to the other side of that fucking stone, and there were lines and cables attached to his hands and feet.”

She blanched, static blurring her a second time. “I didn’t know,” she said. “None of us knew. I told you, we can’t manifest in the Central Core.” She raised trembling fingers to her mouth. “Oh gods, Goku… I’m so sorry.” She glided through the counter, solidified, and pulled Goku into a tight embrace. 

“I thought you gave up your body, Kanzeon,” Goku said, squirming. 

“Yes, sweetie, I’m a hologram now. But I can manifest in solid form now and then.” She hugged him tighter. ““Li Touten told us you had decided to join Nataku.”

“He did,” Genjo said, “just not willingly.”

“That evil, lying bastard,” Kanzeon said, shaking her head. She kissed Goku on the top of his head before releasing him and reverting to her usual, translucent form. “He knew we had no way of checking on his claim, since there is too much interference in the Core chamber.” She gave Genjo a sad smile. “I’m glad that you were able to free him.”

Genjo shrugged. “Nataku is still there, sitting in a stone chair that looks like a throne. But he seems comatose, if he’s even alive at all.”

Kanzeon frowned. “Nataku was—is, I guess—a cyborg designed by Li Touten, and he was specifically created to be the first Locus. He’s definitely still functioning, because he powers me and the other holograms.”

“The ‘Bodhisattvas.’”

“Yes. Nataku was intended to be where you saw him; I was there, still living, when he was ‘installed.’ I never dreamed that Li Touten would try to do that to a human, even an augmented one like Goku.”

“We can’t try to get Nataku out, too?” Goku asked.

“Not yet, darling,” Kanzeon said. “We need to get you and the Musicians out of here first.”

“Out? Where?”

“To live outside the Domes,” Genjo said. He pointed at the Goddess. “Kanzeon. You sent me to steal a Locus that you thought was a power unit, but, obviously, Goku is not a machine. I won’t take him anywhere he doesn’t want to go—I’ll be damned if I make him a prisoner again.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Goku said, almost immediately. “I know it’s not safe for me to be here. But… it’s safe to go Outside now?”

“That’s what my father says,” Genjo said, and then he added, “Sanzo Koumyou.”

“Oh! I like him. He talks to me sometimes.”

Somehow, Genjo was not surprised by the revelation. His father talked to plants as well. “You know all the Sanzos?”

Goku nodded. “Kind of,” he said. “They’re linked to me, so I sense when they draw my energy. Koumyou is the only one who talks to me, though.” He looked up at Genjo’s receptor and smiled. “You’re connected to me, too - I remember seeing you in my mind awhile ago, and I heard your music. I didn’t expect you, because there were already five.” Goku touched his arm. “The link was hard on you… you weren’t really ready, were you? I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Genjo made a dismissive noise and shook off Goku’s hand. “I’m fine,” he said. And he _was_ fine, now that the infernal buzzing in his head was gone.

“If Koumyou thinks it’s safe, that’s good enough for me,” Goku said. “And you’re going too, right?”

Genjo nodded. 

“Come on, boys, follow me into the back office,” Kanzeon said, unlocking the door next to the counter. “Genjo, your Concertmaster is here, and so is your Percussion Section Leader.”

“Um,” Goku said.

Genjo and the Goddess turned toward him.

Goku clutched his midsection. “I’m hungry,” he said, as his stomach let out a loud, rumbling growl, “and, uh, I think I have to pee.”

Kanzeon laughed. “Well, it’s been a few hundred years, hasn’t it?” she said, and then she eyed Goku’s ragged clothing. “Oh honey, we need to get you something new to wear. Genjo, you go on ahead.”

Genjo rolled his eyes and went into the office.


	6. Chapter 6

Two people waited inside the Research Room, and Genjo recognized them from what he thought had been their fictional resumes; Cho Hakkai and Sha Gojyo.

Cho Hakkai immediately rose from his seat and approached Genjo, his hand outstretched. “Koryu Genjo—oh my, _Sanzo_ Genjo,” he said, his green-eyed gaze flicking up to the receptor on Genjo’s forehead, “it’s such an honor to meet you. I am Cho Hakkai. Gojyo and I were fortunate enough to see a portion of your score, and it’s clear that you are your father’s son.”

“Foster-son, actually,” Genjo said, shaking Hakkai’s hand. “But thank you.” Hakkai looked like he had stepped out of his holo-portrait; he wore the same dark green tunic, and he sported the same mono-lens Genjo had seen when he was selecting Musicians for his score.

“It’s still good,” said Gojyo, and he held out a hand from where he sat. “Sha Gojyo.” He looked very different from his portrait; his long, red hair was loose, and his clothing was casual—white shirt, synth leather jacket, pants, and boots. The boots—and the feet that were in them—were currently on the room’s long table.

Genjo shook hands and then dropped into the chair at the head of the table. “I didn’t know you guys were real,” he said. “I thought it was all part of the rank exam.”

Hakkai nodded. “Sanzo Koumyou said only Musicians who chose to play his score were included in the Koryu Composer exam. Thank you so much for choosing us for your project.” He sat back down in his chair.

“So I assume you two chose his score when you took your Rank tests,” Genjo said, while he opened various desk drawers in hopes of finding some kind of liquor.

“That’s correct.”

“And I’m guessing his score was an ‘Outside the Domes’ scenario.” Genjo shut the last drawer, disappointed that he had found nothing.

“Two for two,” Gojyo said, and he fished a flask from inside his jacket and held it out to Genjo. “You look like you need a drink, man.”

“You have no idea,” Genjo said, gratefully accepting the flask. He took a generous swig, and savored the way the bourbon—synth, but he didn’t give a shit at this point—burned its way down his throat.

“Did you leave the Locus out in the front lobby?” Hakkai asked. “As Concertmaster, I was assigned to help you get the Locus unit safely out of the Domes. And Gojyo…”

“I tagged along,” Gojyo said.

Seeing as the two shared the same address in the Temple residence, Genjo imagined that Gojyo tagged along quite a bit. He took another swig from the flask and passed it back. “Well, about the Locus—”

At that moment the Locus decided to bounce into the room. “Hey Genjo, look at the new clothes Kanzeon made for me!” Goku spun around, showing off a pair of baggy pants, chunky-soled boots, and a crimson, sleeveless shirt that was emblazoned with the name of a popular synth band. “Well, she actually just pushed the buttons on a machine, and then the clothes showed up. But they’re the nicest things I’ve ever worn.”

Goku had surprisingly well-muscled arms, Genjo noted, before he made himself look away. “This is the Locus,” he told Hakkai and Gojyo, as he waved a hand in Goku’s direction. “His name is Goku. Goku, this is Cho Hakkai and Sha Gojyo, they’re fellow Musicians who are coming with us.” He enjoyed their slack-jawed expressions.

This time _both_ men were out of their chairs, Gojyo’s chair clattering to the floor. 

“Excuse me?” Hakkai said, blinking at Goku in disbelief.

“What the hell?” Gojyo said. “This kid is the Power Locus?”

Goku scowled at him. “I’m not a kid,” he said. “I’m twenty-two—”

“Five hundred twenty-two, sweet-cheeks,” Kanzeon said as she manifested in the room. She turned to face the others. “You Musicians are not the only ones who have been enslaved; Genjo found Goku chained and connected to the Central Core, and none of us—not even those of us who are housed in the Core—knew that he was still alive.”

“That’s horrible,” Hakkai said. He stepped forward and held out a hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Goku, I’m Hakkai.”

“Hi, Hakkai,” Goku said, and shook his hand.

Genjo noticed that Hakkai had winced when their hands touched, although Hakkai said nothing. 

Gojyo, however, had no such sense of subtlety. “Ow!” he exclaimed when Goku shook his hand. He rubbed his palm against his stomach. “I guess you really _are_ the Locus.” He peered more closely at Goku and cocked his head. “You’re glowing, too.” He turned to Kanzeon. “How the hell are we supposed to sneak him out when he’s lit up like a street light?”

“Sorry,” Goku said. “It’s been a long time since I had to control it.”

“We’ll synth him a cloak, for fuck’s sake,” Genjo snapped.

“Enough,” the Goddess said. She touched the top of the desk, and a three dimensional image of the Togenkyou Domes Complex appeared and began to slowly rotate. “You are here, in Central Dome’s Music Archive.” She pointed to a spot near the western edge of the Central Dome. “You need to go here, to the far side of the Western Dome, where there is a hatch that will get you Outside.”

Genjo pinched his fingers over the image to zoom in closer on the Western Dome. “Isn’t that where the Western branch of Dome Security has its headquarters?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you insane?”

“No, darling. Bear with me,” she said, holding up a hand when Genjo opened his mouth. “The Tenkai system in Dome Security is maintained by two colleagues of mine. _Military_ colleagues, I think you saw them earlier in the Core.”

Genjo frowned at her, then he remembered. “Kenren Taishou,” he said, “and Tenpou Gensui. They’re in on this, too?”

“We all are,” Kanzeon said. “Who is delaying your Sanzo registration in the Tenkai system? My nephew, Konzen Douji. Who has caused a system-wide glitch in the barcode scanners, so that it will be harder to track all the Musicians who are trying to escape? My assistant, Jiroushin. And who is going to bypass all the security measures and let you through the hatches?”

“Tenpou and Kenren!” Goku said.

Kanzeon grinned at him. “We may not have bodies any more, but we can still wreak havoc with the system. _We_ are the Tenkai system.”

Hakkai had been quietly studying the image of the domes. “I assume we’ll be using service corridors and tunnels?” he asked. “I would imagine it’s not a good idea for us to be out in the open.”

“Yes, and yes,” the Goddess said. “Barcode scanners are unreliable in the Tenkai system corridors, so you should stick to those places as much as possible.” She held out her hand, and four wide, metal ID bracelets appeared in her palm. “Put these on, Jiroushin coded them to give you access. You two have your packs?” she said to Hakkai and Gojyo while everyone took their bracelet.

“Yes, and we packed all the compact versions of our instruments that we could get our hands on,” Hakkai replied, and he gestured to a pile of backpacks and rucksacks in the front corner of the office.

“Good,” she said. “I will prepare packs for Genjo and Goku before you leave here.”

“We’re not going now?” Genjo had assumed they would leave right away.

“No, dear,” Kanzeon said. “You need to get some rest; you’ve been without sleep for almost thirty hours, and stimtabs will only take you so far.”

Had it really been that long since he’d slept? Genjo did some mental math and realized it was true. Traveling though access corridors and back rooms had distorted his sense of time. “What time is it?”

“One-thirty. Don’t worry, there’s time for you to get some beauty sleep—things aren’t going to really hit the fan until after tonight’s performance, when the music makes no magic, and over a hundred Musicians are unaccounted for.”

“Over a hundred?” Gojyo said, slipping on his bracelet. “I thought there were almost four hundred of us leaving.”

Hakkai shook his head. “Not everyone will be scheduled tonight. We weren’t.” He looked over at Genjo, who shook his head.

“It buys us some time,” Kanzeon said. “NiiCom won’t know just how many people are missing for another day or so, and Jiroushin has done a splendid job of ruining the tracking system. After tonight, NiiCom will request a level-one troubleshoot of the GOKU Locus, which does not involve any human investigation. I, of course, will give them a perfectly acceptable report and will claim to have resolved the issue. We _might_ get away with a level-two after tomorrow night’s concert, which means Jiroushin and Konzen will be called on to assist me in troubleshooting.”

“So if we’re lucky, no technicians will go into the Core for two more nights.” Genjo stifled a yawn.

“If we’re lucky. And I saw that yawn, mister.” Kanzeon pointed to a door behind where Genjo sat. “There’s a small storeroom back there, and it has a pull-down sleeping bunk. Go, rest; I’ll go over the maps and routes with these two, and Goku has a large meal waiting for him at the foodsynth in the break room. And leave your wristcom, I’ll program it with what you need.”

Goku was out the door before Genjo finished rising from his chair, and what was meant to be a laugh turned into another yawn. “Makes sense to me. Wake me when it’s time to go.” Genjo slipped off his wristcom and set it on the table, and the he turned to head toward the back room.

“Sanzo Genjo?” Hakkai’s hand on his arm made him stop. “May I ask a favor?”

“Just Genjo,” Genjo said. “What is it?”

Hakkai’s gaze dropped to the leather scroll case on Genjo’s belt. “May I look over your score while you are sleeping? I really should familiarize myself with it, and Kanzeon mentioned that she wanted to made some adjustments.”

Genjo unhooked the case and handed it to Hakkai. “Good idea—I see I picked an excellent Concertmaster. Get a list from Kanzeon of who’s coming, see how the sections shake out and make notes of anything you think needs fixing. I have a feeling we won’t have much, if any, time to rehearse this.”

He stepped into the storeroom and pulled the door shut behind him. It was a tiny space, filled with shelves of supplies. The bunk had already been pulled down and readied, and Genjo was pleased to see a small sink in the corner. He did a quick wash-up and then cupped his hands and drank several handfuls of cold water. The bunk creaked as he sat down on it, and creaked some more as he made himself comfortable.

“Lights to minimum,” he told the room, and then he pulled the thin coverlet around him and gave himself over to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Genjo woke to the sound of snores that were not his own. A soft golden glow along his left side immediately gave away the culprit.

Goku was stretched out beside him, an arm flung across Genjo’s stomach, his head resting against Genjo’s chest. Asleep, he looked ridiculously young. It looked like someone had trimmed his hair, and cleaned him up a bit; Genjo could smell the scent of peach soap. It was not an unpleasant smell.

And there were those damn freckles.

Genjo glanced down at the hand that rested on the coverlet, just above his hip. He could still make out the indented ring where the iron shackle had encircled Goku’s wrist, and Goku’s fingertips still had marks just above the first knuckle where the access lines had been attached to his hands.

Anger swelled in him as he stared at the marks. All the magic that was awakened by his music, all the magic that he had used to build and create beautiful things, came from the enslavement of this person sleeping next to him. It came from a young man who had been kept alive for a half-millennium so that his life energy could be siphoned off for others’ gain.

The thought made Genjo want to be ill. He vowed to himself that he would only build the city if Goku consented to give the energy they would need for their magic to activate. If he didn’t, then everyone could live in wood huts as far as Genjo was concerned.

It surprised him, this fierce protectiveness of someone he barely knew. The attraction, that was not as surprising; Goku was more cute than handsome, but he had the kind of looks and build that Genjo had a weakness for—and it was probably that predisposition that had made Goku’s touch arousing instead of painful. He remembered Goku saying something about controlling his energy, and he hoped for Goku’s sake that he would relearn that control soon—it would be a shame if people were afraid to touch him, this person who had been denied physical contact for so long.

Speaking of that contact, it was beginning to affect him. Genjo slowly eased away from Goku, and he softly cursed when the bunk squeaked loudly. 

Goku stirred, and he raised his head and blinked sleepily at Genjo. “I fell asleep,” he said. 

“Yes. And you snored.” In spite of being woken by Goku’s snores, Genjo felt that the rest, short as it had been, had definitely done him good.

“Sorry.” Goku hid his face against Genjo’s ribs, and then he looked up again, grinning. “I haven’t been able to sleep laying down like this in a long, long time.” He leaned over and brushed his mouth against Genjo’s, and then he sat up and stretched. The bunk gave a mighty groan as Goku hopped off and clomped over to the sink.

While the water ran, Genjo couldn’t decide what was burning more; his lips, his face, or the tight knot of arousal in his groin. He tried to take his mind off it by concentrating on folding up the bunk and fastening the latch, an attempt that was working fine until Goku scooted behind him in the narrow space to get to the door. A brief, tantalizing brush of warmth and hardness along the back of his thighs told him that Goku was aroused, too.

Splashing cold water on his face managed to calm everything down, and Genjo was (mostly) in control of himself by the time he re-entered the Research Room. 

“You look worlds better, kiddo,” Kanzeon said, and she waved to a spot at the far end of the table, where there was a backpack, his score, and a plate laden with food. “Sit, eat, and then I’ll let you be on your way.” 

It was synthed food, but Genjo was hungry. The bland taste and consistency made him miss his father’s ‘old fashioned’ cooking. “Where are Koumyou and the others?” he asked in between bites of food.

“Tenpou reports that Koumyou’s group made it out through the hatch in the North Dome, and they headed toward the entrance to the valley. Kenren took care of Sharak’s group at the Eastern Dome hatch, and her Assistant Conductor, Hassan, took the last group through the Southern hatch. They were the group who was supposed to have been led by Goudai and Tenkai.”

Genjo frowned at the mention of the two Sanzos who had been killed in the explosion that he had so narrowly missed. “Why not the Central Dome hatch? And why all different hatches? We have the longest trip to the valley, going out of the Western hatch.”

Kanzeon’s lips compressed to a thin, angry line. “Central was the original choice, but I’m afraid Ukoku knew about that part of the plan. It’s too much of a risk to use it now; after what happened the other night, Koumyou decided it would be best to split everyone up and go through all the _other_ hatches. You boys are taking the Western route because no one will expect it. It won’t be too bad—you don’t have to deal with herding a hundred or so Musicians, and Kenren will have a hover-sled ready for you. It won’t get you all the way there, but it will cut out a significant chunk of walking.”

“I’d like to get my hands on that bastard,” Gojyo said. “We lost a couple of friends in that ‘accident.’ I can’t believe it was reported as an oven explosion.”

Goku made a face. “I didn’t like Ukoku,” he said. “He was creepy. I didn’t want to be connected with him.”

Kanzeon laughed. “Well, that explains why his receptor never worked. He’s got a knack with tech systems, though, and he managed to siphon power through the access lines anyway.”

“I think he added his own line,” Genjo said, thinking of the cable that had been attached to Goku’s ankle.

“But it’s not there any more,” Goku said, wiggling his foot.

“Shit.” Genjo pushed his empty plate away and stood up. “We need to get moving.” He attached the scroll case to his belt, fastened his wristcom, and slipped on the backpack.

“Agreed,” Hakkai said, and he picked up his backpack. “Goku, could you carry my duffel pack for me?” He pointed at the larger of the two packs that remained on the floor at his feet.

“Sure!” Goku said, and after he shrugged on his own backpack he picked up the duffel.

“What’s in that one?” Genjo asked. He didn’t remember seeing it earlier in the afternoon.

“I felt that it would be prudent to make study scores for the various parts,” Hakkai said as he picked up the bag and slung its strap over his shoulder. “We don’t know how long our wristcoms will continue to work Outside, and we certainly won’t have screens to read from.”

“You made three hundred some-odd study scores?” Once again, Genjo was glad of his choice of Concertmaster.

“With my help,” Kanzeon said, looking very pleased with herself. “Not all synthesized things are bad, Genjo.”

“I didn’t say they were,” Genjo retorted. “Just the food and the booze.”

“Hey, I helped too,” Gojyo said.

“Yes, you did,” Hakkai said, and he patted Gojyo on the shoulder. “Shall we go?”

Kanzeon led them through the rows of storage shelves to a locked door at the very back of the Archive. She waved a hand over the access panel, and seconds later it flashed green and the door clicked open. 

“Your wristcoms have the route hard-coded into them, as well as some fake troubleshooting scripts that can be run when needed,” she said. “Do _not_ do any updates. It will take you until tomorrow night to reach the Western hatch. When you get close, run one of the fake routines, and then Jiroushin will alert Kenren that you’re near.”

“Thank you, Kanzeon,” Genjo said. “And please convey our thanks to the others.”

Her form solidified, and she touched his cheek. “I guess this is goodbye, then. I wish you all safe travels.” 

Hakkai and Gojyo left first, and walked out into the narrow corridor. As Goku approached the door Kanzeon pulled him into a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry, Goku,” she said, “If only I had known… I would have given anything to keep them from doing that to you.”

Goku looked up at her. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, “and I’m really glad I got to see you again. I wish I could’ve seen Konzen, too… will you tell him I said hi?”

“Tell him yourself.” Kanzeon smiled at him, and then she flickered and shifted. Suddenly Goku was embraced by the tall, blond-haired form of Konzen Douji.

“I’m not supposed to manifest in this section, so I can’t stay long,” Konzen said. “It’s good to see you, Goku.”

Genjo heard a muffled sob. He quietly stepped into the corridor, pulling the door partly shut to give Goku some time alone with a person he obviously had missed very much.

A few minutes later Goku emerged, red-eyed and quiet, and just as Genjo was about to shut the door Konzen spoke. “Genjo.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for getting him out of there… out of here,” Konzen said. His flickering, ghostly gaze met Genjo’s. “Don’t let them bring him back.”

Genjo felt Goku’s hand slip into his. “I won’t,” he said, as their fingers twined.


	8. Chapter 8

When Kanzeon had said it would take the better part of a day to reach the far side of the Western Dome, Genjo had mentally scoffed; he’d been to the Western Dome a number of times with his father, acting as an assistant on jobs that required Koumyou’s power as a Sanzo.

But, he now realized, he and Koumyou had always taken the speedtubes, which had made the trips take only an hour or so. They had never had to _walk_ the whole way.

And there were no speedtubes in the technical system corridors.

“It’s times like this that I regret my sedentary lifestyle,” Hakkai said when they stopped for a rest break. The four men sat on the steel mesh of a stair landing, munching on the meal bars that Hakkai has passed around.

“This is going to take forever, man,” Gojyo said, massaging his calves while he looked up at the sea of cabling and pipes above their heads. “This place is a fucking maze.”

Hakkai consulted his wristcom. “Once we cross over—or under?—into the Western Dome, we’ll have mostly straight runs, except for intersections and a few spots where we have to change levels.”

“Doesn’t make my legs feel any better.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think my healing magic will work here,” Hakkai said. “I’ve only ever done it in one of the music temples.”

“We can try, if you want,” Goku said.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hakkai nodded. “All right,” he said. “It would helpful if I can ease our discomfort.”

Hakkai put his hands on Gojyo’s outstretched legs, and when Hakkai began to quietly hum a tune, Goku put a hand on his shoulder. A faint white light emanated from Hakkai’s hands as he ran them over Gojyo’s legs and feet.

Gojyo stared at his legs, and then he looked up at them and grinned. “Worked like a charm,” he said. 

Hakkai repeated the same on himself and Goku, and when he reached toward Genjo’s legs, Genjo shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said. “My father always made me walk a lot.”

Goku’s mouth took on a stubborn set. “Let him help you,” he said. “I know your legs hurt, too.”

Genjo rolled his eyes and unfolded himself from the cross-legged position he’d been sitting in. Hakkai’s touch was light, and in spite of his earlier refusal Genjo couldn’t help but welcome the way his leg muscles relaxed as healing energy seeped through them. The magic was Hakkai’s, but Genjo could sense Goku’s energy behind it.

“There, all done,” Hakkai said, and Goku removed his hand. “Goku, you’ve already improved in your control—there was hardly any discomfort this time.”

There was relief in Goku’s smile, which told Genjo that Goku had also worried about people fearing physical contact with him. “Let’s go,” Genjo said, and as he rose he crumpled up the wrapper from his meal bar and stuffed it into his pocket.

The hours spilled together as they made their way through the labyrinthine complex of corridors, broken only by the occasional stop for rest, healing, and a meal bar. For the most part, they remained silent; despite the altered ID bracelets they wore, Genjo knew there was always the possibility of surveillance, so exchanges were brief and gave nothing away. They trudged single-file through seemingly endless passageways that were lined on both sides with thick bundles of pipe and cabling, lit by dim, overhead panels that flickered to life as they came within range of motion sensors, fading back to dark once they passed out of range.

There were more cables above them, and interspersed with the blue glow of Tenkai system lines were four access lines that were dark. Goku reached up and brushed his still-scarred fingertips against them. “These were attached to me,” he murmured. “Four for each Dome - these are the Western Dome’s lines.”

Twenty, for ten fingers, and ten toes. Genjo tried to push away the memory of how the cables had been attached to Goku, like parasites. “Hush,” he said.

More hours passed, more miles of narrow passageways were trod beneath their weary feet, and as they continued on, one by one the access lines split off to run down other corridors, toward music temples that would soon discover the lack of magical energy. When the last dark line above them veered off to the right and disappeared into the dark, Genjo called a halt and checked his wristcom. “We’re almost there,” he said.

“Define ‘almost,’” Gojyo said, while he took advantage of the pause to stretch.

“According to this, less than an hour.” Genjo tapped the small screen a few times. “We should stop at the next service terminal and run that routine that Kanzeon gave us, so that Jiroushin will know where we are.”

“I hope this place has beer,” Gojyo said. “I would kill for a Synthiser right about now.”

Genjo snorted. “You _would_ like synthed beer.”

Gojyo stretched his middle finger in Genjo’s direction.

It was over twenty minutes before they reached a service terminal. Genjo scanned his ID bracelet, and a panel slid open to reveal a screen and a keypad. He entered the code for the diagnostic routine, and a minute later the words “INPUT RECEIVED - PROCEED” appeared on the screen.

To Genjo, it seemed like the last half hour of walking was more like three. Exhaustion was setting in for all of them, and, paired with more stairs and more narrow, winding corridors, it was a wonder that no one injured themselves. 

They turned a corner, and all of them stopped short when they saw a man standing at the end of the passage, dressed in a long military jacket with metal epaulets. He looked bathed in blue light, but when Genjo squinted to peer down the dim corridor he realized that the light was the man—or hologram—himself.

A hand raised in greeting. 

Goku pushed past Genjo and ran toward the ghostly figure. “Kenren!” 

“Keep it down, kiddo, we’re on the down-low here.” 

Goku reached out to touch him, but his hand went through Kenren’s image. “Oops! I thought you could be solid sometimes, like Kanzeon and Konzen.”

“We can, but since Tenpou and I hardly bother with it most of the time, we thought we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves. Kanzeon’s been sucking a lot of energy manifesting over the last two days, and Konzen’s going to have to come up with a reason for being in the Music Archive.” Kenren grinned at him. “But it’s great to see you, Goku.”

The others caught up to Goku, and Genjo’s gaze traveled from Goku’s happy face to the tall, lanky hologram at his side. “General Kenren,” he said, “thank you for helping us.”

Kenren flicked a salute. “At your service,” he said, and then he cocked his head and regarded them. “At the risk of sounding like a smart-ass, you all look like shit.”

“Yeah, well, walking for almost twenty hours will do that to you,” Gojyo grumbled.

“Just a little over nineteen, actually; you guys made great time,” Kenren said.

“Thanks to Hakkai,” Genjo said. “He’s been using healing magic on us to keep us moving.”

“I had help from Goku,” Hakkai said. “But I must admit I’m looking forward to some real rest.”

Kenren waved a hand in front of an entry panel next to a sealed door, and seconds later the door slid open. “We’re not going to send you guys on your way until dawn, so your early arrival gives you extra R, R, and B time.”

“’Rock, Rhythm and Blues?’” asked Gojyo as he followed the others into one of the sand-colored hallways of the Western Dome Security headquarters.

Kenren laughed. “That one’s older than me, friend. I’m talking Rest, Relaxation, and Booze. Non-synthed booze, I might add.”

“I think you and I are going to be best friends,” Gojyo said.


	9. Chapter 9

Part Three: Realization

 

Genjo wasn’t sure what he expected he would see beyond the Western Dome hatch. In all the stories he had read as a child, descriptions of Outside ranged from a vast expanse of desert, to a rocky, barren wasteland populated with mutated monsters.

Standing outside the Dome, in the pale, dawn-streaked morning light, he hadn’t expected it to look so… normal, with gently rolling, scrub-covered hills and the occasional stand of trees. It was the hover-sled that looked out of place, that and the two holograms that stood nearby while Genjo and the others loaded the sled with the help of the same soldiers who had brought them their meals the night before.

Genjo voiced his thought to Kenren, who chuckled.

“You know the phrase, ‘time heals all wounds?’ Well, that works for land as well as hearts,” Kenren said.

“Kenren, the land healed better because there were no humans to interfere.” The translucent form of Field Marshall Tenpou Gensui sat on the hood of the vehicle.

“Hmm, and I’m sure that helped the wildlife population, too,” Kenren replied. “Five hundred years of no hunting season.”

“Wildlife?” Gojyo’s gaze darted over the grassy plain before them. “You mean, wild animals? There’s wild animals out there?”

“Of course there are, Gojyo,” Hakkai chided him. “But I’m sure they will be more frightened of us than we might be of them.” He carefully secured the pack that contained his instruments, and then he turned to Kenren. “I should probably be the one to operate the sled; I did the best on those simulator tests you gave us last night.”

“I don’t want to drive that thing,” Gojyo said, “and there’s no way in hell we should allow our Fearless Leader to get behind the wheel—did you see how bad he did on his tests? We’d be dead before we got there.”

Genjo scowled at him, but said nothing; he _had_ scored pretty badly on the piloting sim. He was surprised that any of them did well, considering how exhausted they had been upon arriving at the barracks. But a hot shower, hot food, and plenty of sleep on a surprisingly comfortable bunk had left Genjo refreshed and ready for the next leg of their adventure.

He’d woken to find Goku sleeping next to him, once again, despite the fact that Goku had been given his own bunk in the tiny room that he and Genjo had shared. Goku had kissed him again; a little bit longer, a tiny bit deeper, and Genjo had kissed him back before he realized what he was doing.

He watched Goku now, chatting animatedly with Tenpou, and his gaze lingered on Goku’s smiling mouth, on that lip that he’d lightly bitten a few hours earlier. Golden eyes met his, and Genjo glanced away, embarrassed that he’d been caught staring.

“I think you’re good to go,” Kenren said, as he scanned the sled’s contents. “Looks like all your gear is in there, and we added some sleeping bags and a couple of small tents—you’ll need to ditch the sled once you reach the mountains, and by that time it will be too late to safely go through the pass.”

Genjo made sure his bags were in the sled. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“We’ve been helping Koumyou, Goudai, and Tenkai make this same trip for the last few years,” Tenpou said.

“I hope you don’t let Koumyou drive,” Genjo said. If he was bad, his father was worse.

Tenpou laughed. “Goudai wouldn’t let him,” he said, and his smile faded. “It’s a shame about those two. They were good men, and they were your father’s best friends.” Tenpou flickered briefly, and then stood next to the sled. “You should get going,” he said, looking at the lightening sky. “You’ll need most of the day to reach the mountains, and you’ll want to set up your camp in daylight.”

Hakkai was already in the pilot’s seat, getting last-minute instruction from the two soldiers. Gojyo climbed into the back, quickly followed by Goku. Genjo settled in next to Hakkai. “Thank you for your help,” he said.

“You’re quite welcome,” Tenpou said. “We haven’t had a good old-fashioned rebellion in centuries.” He smiled at Goku. “Take care, Goku.”

Kenren tapped his temple in another salute. “Tell the old man he can always come back for supplies or equipment.” He grinned at Goku. “Don’t take this the wrong way, kid, but I hope I never see you again. Live a good life, okay?”

After a few false starts, Hakkai got the hover-sled started and off the ground. Genjo watched Goku wave to the ghostly figures as they disappeared from view, and he noted that while their parting was friendly, Goku was not nearly as attached to Kenren and Tenpou as he was to Kanzeon and Konzen—although Goku’s eyes were suspiciously bright when he turned back around in his seat.

The hours flew by almost as fast as the ground beneath the hover-sled. Hakkai proved to be an excellent pilot, and Genjo set up his wristcom up on the control dash to make it easier for Hakkai to navigate to their destination. The mountain range loomed in the distance, and as they zoomed over the scrubby hills and wide plain, it seemed to merely inch closer to them.

“Ugh, it still seems so far away,” Goku said, leaning on the back of Genjo’s seat to peer through the sled’s windshield. “Are you sure we’re going to get there before dark?”

Genjo pointed at the wristcom. “According to this, we will.” He turned toward Hakkai. “I think after we find a campsite we should dump all the gear and then find a good spot to hide the sled.”

“I agree,” Hakkai replied. “We might as well find a safe spot for it, in case we ever need to use it again. Although from what Tenpou told me, Koumyou and the others have spent the last few years smuggling supplies and equipment out to the valley. So we may not need anything.”

“I would prefer that,” Genjo said. “The whole idea of this is to make a new life for ourselves, away from the Domes.” The extent of his father’s involvement in the whole matter still made Genjo’s head spin.

Goku peered over the edge at the blurred landscape beneath them. “I feel bad that the others had to walk.”

Gojyo shrugged. “They didn’t have nearly the trip we do—they all went through the closer hatches. And there’s no way Kenren and Tenpou would be able to arrange transportation for almost four hundred people. One hover-sled? No problem, they can futz with the inventory and make it disappear. Sixty hover-sleds? Now, there’s a problem.”

“Oh,” Goku said, although his expression indicated some trouble with doing the math. “There’s four hundred people?”

“Kanzeon said three hundred ninety-two,” Genjo said. “Adding you makes three hundred ninety three.” The numbers reminded him of his conversation with Kanzeon. “Hakkai, did you and the Goddess work out the adjustments to my score? Are we leaving out the sections that she marked?”

“Yes,” Hakkai replied, “and I made the study scores based on the smaller footprint. She also culled some bits from Koumyou’s and Sharak’s similar scores, to put in the residences that they had designed for themselves. I’ll show you those adjustments when we’re ready to play.”

“Excellent work, Hakkai.” _We just might do this,_ Genjo thought.

The sun was just beginning its hazy descent when they reached the sheer, craggy cliffs of the mountain range. The woods were more plentiful here, with numerous rivers and streams winding through the mix of boulders and talus that skirted the mountain’s base. Hakkai guided the hover-sled through the trees and brush, following one of the smaller streams, until Genjo’s wristcom beeped that they had reached Koumyou’s coordinates.

“Look over there,” Gojyo said, pointing to a narrow, rocky track that disappeared into a large cleft in the rock. “See all that trampled brush? I bet that’s where we head to the pass.”

Hakkai checked the wristcom. “You’re right,” he said. “Let’s find a nearby spot to set up camp, and then we’ll get this sled hidden away.”

Genjo looked at the sky. “Let’s get this done quick,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve never set up a tent.”

“Can’t be that difficult,” Gojyo said.

By the time the sun began to set in earnest they had both tents erected on opposite sides of a small clearing near the head of the trail. Gojyo and Hakkai got a fire going, and Goku surprised them all by catching a batch of fish from one of the nearby streams, holding up the edges of his shirt to contain his bounty. After cleaning the fish and threading the fillets on some sticks he’d gathered, Goku arranged them over the fire while the other men looked on in bemused wonder while the fish sizzled and crisped.

“Are we supposed to eat that?” Gojyo said.

“I’ve never eaten real fish,” Hakkai murmured.

Genjo eyed the smoking sticks and said nothing.

Goku laughed at them. “Don’t be wimps. It’ll taste good, I promise.” A few minutes later, he distributed the sticks, and then he plopped down on a fallen trunk they’d dragged near the fire and dug into his freshly-cooked meal.

Gojyo took a tentative bite, and then he stared at the stick. “Oh my god,” he said. “This is amazing.”

Genjo bit into his fish, and groaned when the smoky flavors of the meat burst across his tongue. He’d been eating ‘real’ food for a number of years—unaware of Koumyou’s ulterior motives—but fresh meat was a rarity that they had seldom indulged in. And Genjo had certainly never eaten something that had just been plucked out of a stream less than half an hour before. He made quick work of the rest of his portion, and decided that fresh fish was definitely going to get added to his and Koumyou’s meal list.

“I told you it would be good,” Goku said, grinning. “It’s funny what stays in your brain. I hardly remember anything from when I was a Dome worker, but I remembered how to make that fish.”

“I’m glad you did—it’s delicious,” Hakkai said. “I’ll have to pay better attention to how you prepared it next time.”

As they sat around the dying fire, Gojyo passed his flask around.

This time when Genjo took a swig, it tasted much better. “Kenren gave you some of the good stuff, huh?” he commented, taking another sip before passing it to Goku, who took one sniff, made a face, and passed it to Hakkai without drinking any.

Hakkai declined, so Goyjo and Genjo passed the flask back and forth a few more times.

“I might have a bottle in my backpack,” Gojyo said.

“I knew I brought you along for a reason,” Genjo said, and he took one final sip and handed the flask back. He stood and stretched, and looked up at the darkening sky. “I’m going to wash up and get to bed. We have a lot of walking tomorrow.”

He was aware of Goku’s gaze following him as he headed across the clearing to the tent they would share for the night. A small tent, Genjo noted, with barely enough room for two people and their gear. They were going to be sleeping in close quarters tonight. He remembered the brief, lazy kiss they had shared that morning in the barracks, and the feather-light touch of Goku’s tongue brushing against his.

Heat curled low in his belly, and Genjo decided that tonight, he wasn’t going to wait for Goku to kiss him first.


	10. Chapter 10

The stars, the _real_ stars, were beyond beautiful. Genjo lay on top of his sleeping bag and stared at the sky through the fine black mesh of the tent’s inner roof.

_It’s like I can almost touch them_ , he thought, raising a hand as if to pluck one from the sky. A mottled, white band spattered across the deep indigo of the night—the ‘Milky Way’, he remembered from his schoolbook—and even though he had seen a version of it projected on the frosted thermoglass of the Dome every night, seeing the real thing took his breath away.

A breeze made the trees sway above him as if in ritual dance, and Genjo felt the chill of it kiss his still-damp skin. After bathing in the river, he’d decided to sleep just wearing his boxer shorts; while the night was cool, the inside of the tent was warm, despite the mesh above him.

He heard a rustling nearby and tensed; there were so many new noises to assimilate. He would need to learn what were normal noises of the night, and what could be a sign of danger. He relaxed when he saw the Goku’s spiky-mopped silhouette against the tent flap, illuminated by the lantern he carried.

Goku unzipped the fly and crawled inside, clad only in wildly patterned boxers. “Man, that water was cold! I forgot how cold washing in a stream could be.” He glanced up at the mesh inner roof while he put the rest of his clothes on top of his pack. “I’m glad it was nice enough weather to leave this open. I want to sleep under the stars tonight.”

Genjo grunted in agreement.

Goku switched off the lantern and put it away, but not before Genjo got an eyeful of toned, lean muscles. For a guy who’d spent the last five hundred years chained to a rocky slab, Goku looked pretty damn good. Even in the dark, Goku’s skin was faintly luminous, and Genjo found it amusing that the only patch of dark was Goku’s shorts. As Goku crawled onto his sleeping bag, toward Genjo, in the tent’s faint light Genjo could see the hunger in Goku’s dark gaze.

Genjo stared at him, his gaze fixed on Goku’s parted mouth, on that damn lower lip. He snaked a hand behind Goku’s neck to tug him closer.

Their mouths met, and this time it was not a quick brush of lips, but a ravenous devouring filled with pent-up desire. Genjo pushed Goku onto his back, pressing their bodies close as he took Goku’s mouth with demanding kisses. He groaned when their tongues met, pushing and sliding together, and as heat pooled in his groin Genjo felt himself harden.

He wanted more than kisses.

Goku’s mouth was warm and pliant beneath his, and when Genjo moved on to kiss his throat Goku tilted his head back for easier access. Goku’s eager submission was very arousing; he lay sprawled beneath Genjo, legs spread in invitation, offering his body up for Genjo’s pleasure.

_Offering…_

Genjo stilled as a horrible thought occurred to him. 

Goku frowned at him. “What is it? Why’d you stop?”

“You’re just doing this because you’re grateful I freed you,” he said. He tried to roll off of Goku, but Goku held him fast.

Goku laughed. “You’re silly. I’ll always be grateful,” he said, and he leaned up to kiss Genjo’s chin. “But this? I’m here, kissing you, because you’re sexy as hell and I want you to fuck me.” He rocked against Genjo’s thigh. “Would my dick be this hard if I didn’t want you?”

Genjo glanced down between them and realized that at some point during their passionate exchange of kisses, the shameless little shit had shimmied off his shorts and was now naked beneath him. Goku’s hard, thick cock bumped against Genjo’s cotton-clad hip.

Goku kissed him again, his hands tugging at Genjo’s shorts, and moments later Genjo was naked too.

“Greedy brat,” Genjo said, reaching down to press his palm against Goku’s generous erection.

Goku groaned. “Yeah, I’m greedy,” he said. “I haven’t been laid in five hundred years.” He bucked up against Genjo’s hand.

Genjo gave him a squeeze, which earned him another, frustrated groan. “Keep the noise down, I don’t want the other two hearing us. Besides, do you want to end up coming in five seconds?”

“Hell, no.”

“Then slow the fuck down.” Genjo started to slowly stroke him, enjoying the way Goku struggled to keep himself under control. But Goku ended up coming anyway, his release spilling into Genjo’s hand seconds after Genjo started sucking on a dusky nipple.

“Lightweight,” Genjo murmured against Goku’s skin. 

“F-five hundred years, remember?”

Genjo snorted softly and he began to work spit-slicked fingers into Goku’s body, reveling in Goku’s response. He bent and lapped the bitter-salt spend from Goku’s belly as he continued to prepare him.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Goku gasped.

“Patience,” Genjo said. “Five hundred years, remember?” Time aside, Goku’s frame was smaller and Genjo didn’t want to hurt him. His efforts paid off minutes later when he entered Goku, pushing inside him until he was buried in tight heat, and when he began to move the only sounds Goku made were those of pleasure.

“Oh, yeah,” Goku breathed, his voice low and husky, “oh, yeah, just like that.” He canted up his hips and wrapped his legs around Genjo’s waist, drawing him in further. “You feel so good. More. Harder.”

“Shush,” Genjo murmured against Goku’s mouth, and then he gave Goku what he wanted, driving into him with rough, deep thrusts. He savored Goku’s hushed, breathy moans, the wanton way Goku rocked up against him, and the scrape of Goku’s teeth along his collarbones. Goku’s energy spread throughout him, and the warmth of it amplified the pleasure Genjo took from moving in and out of the exquisite tightness of Goku’s willing, eager body.

He felt Goku’s cock stiffening against his belly, and the warm, damp puffs of Goku’s breath against his throat as he urged Genjo on. Goku’s hands roamed over his body, cupping his ass, fingertips dipping into the cleft and teasing at Genjo’s hole. Genjo stifled a groan when his climax rose up and surged through him, and through the haze of his orgasm he heard Goku’s barely-muffled moans as Goku arched up against him, and the warmth of Goku’s release spread between their bodies.

Genjo wasn’t sure how long they continued to lay joined together, while their panting breaths mixed with the rustling of leaves and the buzz of insect-song. Their kisses were languid, a slow exploration of each other’s mouths that they hadn’t bothered with earlier. Genjo swiped his tongue along Goku’s throat, enjoying the salty taste of Goku’s sweat while Goku’s hands traveled lazily up Genjo’s spine and meandered back down, mapping its hills and valleys with his fingers before returning to possessively cup Genjo’s ass.

The night air on his sweaty skin began to get uncomfortably chilly, and Genjo eased out and reached for their still-damp washcloths. He tossed one to Goku and they quickly cleaned themselves up, and then they worked on zipping their sleeping bags together.

Goku paused as he watched Genjo fiddle with the zipper, and then he reached for Genjo’s hand. “Look,” he said, “you’re glowy like me now.”

Genjo stared at his hand, and then at the rest of his body. Sure enough, a faint, golden light emanated from his skin, and he could still feel the lingering remnants of Goku’s energy tickling inside him, mingling with his own power. “I guess that’s a side effect of ‘direct access,’” he said wryly. He hoped it was not permanent; having to explain his sudden luminescence to Hakkai and Gojyo would be more than a little embarrassing.

Goku snorted, his shoulders shaking as he tried to muffle his laughter. He leaned over and kissed Genjo’s bare shoulder. “Access me again,” he whispered against Genjo’s skin, and then he scooted onto his hands and knees. “Come on, you know you want to.” He swayed his hips suggestively.

Genjo knew that if he had any sense, he would tell Goku they should just go to sleep, because they still had a half day’s hike to get to their destination. But Goku’s pose was very provocative, especially when he shifted to rest on his elbows, and the tantalizing sight made Genjo more than ready. Genjo trailed his fingertips over the knobby line of Goku’s spine, and then he swept his hand over the curve of Goku’s ass. “Hmm… I thought you said you wanted to sleep under the stars tonight.” 

Goku’s grin was bright in the rising moonlight. “Yeah, but fucking under the stars is a lot more fun.”

Genjo had to agree.


	11. Chapter 11

“It’s like another world,” Hakkai said. 

After a few hours of hiking up a narrow, rubble-strewn track they now stood on a rocky ledge that overlooked a vast, ruined landscape. Groups of concentric rings of dead, flattened trees stretched out for miles, dotted here and there with centuries of new growth.

“It _is_ another world, when you think about it,” Gojyo said as he caught his breath. He shielded his eyes with a hand as he looked in the distance. “That’s a city over there, isn’t it? One of the big ones, I think. Or what’s left of one.”

“I’d vote for ‘what’s left of one,’” Genjo said. “It looks like the forest has almost taken it over. There’s another one over there.” He fished in his backpack for his bottle of water and took a few sips.

“I read about something like that in a history book once,” Hakkai said. “Whole cities lost in the jungle, overgrown so much that they disappeared without a trace.” He looked around the hilltop. “Where’s Goku?”

“Up in one of the trees, like a goddamn monkey,” Genjo said. During their trip up the mountainside, Goku had taken advantage of every rest break to explore their surroundings, which was fine with Genjo—at least when Goku was up a tree he wasn’t trying to surreptitiously grab Genjo’s ass, or sneak a kiss. A furiously whispered lecture during their last break had merely caused Goku to pout, adorably, and Genjo had ended up pulling him behind a fallen rock and kissing him anyway.

“I’m not a monkey!” Goku called down from somewhere ahead of them. “Guys, I found the pass!”

They followed Goku’s voice, and were soon standing with him at the rocky entrance to the mountain pass that would lead them to the valley. Over to one side, water cascaded out of the opening, creating a spectacular waterfall. The path—if you could call it that—was an uneven track that had been eroded away by the river thousands of years before. Sheer, craggy walls of sandstone rose up on both sides.

Genjo could see the muddy evidence of where the others had gone before them. “This is the valley’s river,” he said. He glanced at the mineral stains on the rocks. “Looks like this river takes up the whole pass for awhile—probably in the spring.”

“Good thing we left at the right time,” Gojyo said, and he scooped up a handful of water and drank it. “Wow, this is cold. And good—who knew water could taste this good?”

“I imagine Koumyou timed our exodus for when the pass would be open,” Hakkai said. 

Genjo nodded. “It’s probably only passable from early summer to late fall. We’ll have to ask Koumyou.”

Goku bounded over to him. “Are we almost there?”

Hakkai checked his wristcom. “Actually, yes. Only a couple of miles.”

“Then let’s go!” Goku hopped over a pile of tumbled boulders and disappeared around a sharp bend in the pass.

Two hours later, they were still making their way through the narrow passageway, although an increase in trees and other foliage clinging to the cliffs along the river told Genjo that they were close to the valley. Many of the obstacles in their path had already been cleared by the Musicians who had traveled before them; more than a few times, though, they had to clamber over a rockslide or wade in the river to get around a tangle of fallen tree trunks. 

“’Only a couple of miles,’ he said,” Gojyo muttered as they climbed over yet another rockslide. “Remind me not to go hiking with you again, Hakkai.”

“Well, the pass _is_ only a little over five miles long.”

“Is this the only way in?”

“According to the holo-maps I was originally given of the valley, there’s another pass at the south-eastern end,” Genjo said. “But I think from where we left, this was the quicker route.”

They followed a sharp bend in the river, and suddenly the pass opened up and they found themselves in the valley.

Sheer, craggy walls of sandstone and granite rose up from the sides, and clusters of trees dotted the verdant valley floor. The air was filled with the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves, as well as the constant burble of the river as it wound its way into a cleft in the eastern side.

For awhile they stood, motionless, staring at the rugged beauty before them. Genjo had read the phrase ‘breathtakingly beautiful’ many times, in many books, but for the first time in his life he knew what it truly meant. He swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat.

Goku, who had no shame, wiped tears off his cheeks with his shirt sleeve. After hugging Hakkai and Gojyo, he gave Genjo an enthusiastic kiss before he dropped his bags on the ground and ran toward a large, wildflower-covered hill.

“Goku!” Genjo called, to no avail.

“Wow, we didn’t get a kiss,” Gojyo said. 

“Fuck you,” Genjo retorted.

“Genjo.” Hakkai put a hand on his arm. “Do you hear any of the others? All I hear are the sounds of the valley—and this place is small enough that we should hear them.”

Genjo frowned and cocked his head toward the center of the valley floor, trying to pick out any man-made noise.

Nothing.

Hakkai’s grip on his arm tightened. “Look at Goku. Something’s wrong.”

A few hundred feet away, Goku stood at the crest of the hill, his feet hidden by swaying fieldgrass. Goku’s back was to them, but Genjo noticed that his stance was rigid, and his hands were balled into tight fists.

Genjo grabbed Goku’s backpack, and he motioned for Gojyo to take the other bag. A few moments later, they stood next to Goku on the crest of the hill.

The Musicians were there, in the valley’s large meadow. But there were others there, too; several dozen men clad in the gray uniforms of NiiCom security stood among the Musicians, armed with blast rifles.

And in the center of the meadow, standing on a low, rocky outcrop, was Sanzo Ukoku.


	12. Chapter 12

“Ah, we finally have the last of your motley crew, Koumyou,” Ukoku said, his voice ringing across the too-quiet valley. “And look, it’s little Genjo, your pride and joy, with the NiiCom property he stole.” He waved a hand at the security personnel who blocked Genjo’s way. “Go ahead, let them in.”

Genjo looked around him as they walked to the center of the large meadow that was to be the village’s main Plaza. He felt surreal, disconnected; while the mid-afternoon sun warmed the back of his neck, he heard the soft crunch of grass beneath his boots—but he also heard the clatter of metal as the soldiers adjusted their blast rifles, and he could feel the tension rolling in waves from the hundreds of fellow Musicians who stood, captive, around him.

Goku’s hand clutched the back of his shirt, and Genjo could feel it tremble.

Walking behind them both, Hakkai and Gojyo were tense and silent. A few minutes later, the four men stopped about twenty feet from the rock where Ukoku stood. Two soldiers poked at Hakkai and Gojyo, forcing them off to the side so that Genjo and Goku stood alone.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t take that bet, Dad—you’d owe Sharak money,” Genjo called out to his father. He turned toward Ukoku. “She knew it was you, right away,” he said. “How’d you find out? You’re not a real Sanzo.”

Ukoku regarded him with a cold, black gaze. “That brat might not have let the floating heads light up my forehead, but it doesn’t mean I wasn’t able to get access to him anyway. The Temple might know me as Ukoku, but in the Nii family I am called Jian-yi, and being a member of the Nii family has its privileges. I went to the Core and put in my own access line.”

Gasps and murmurs rose from the crowd of Musicians, cut off quickly when the soldiers brandished their weapons.

Genjo heard Goku’s breath draw in like a hiss, and he was reminded of that extra line that had been attached to Goku’s ankle. “You bastard,” he said, “if you were there then you knew Goku was still alive. So you left him that way and just plugged another line into him?”

“Oh, I sedated him first—I didn’t want him accidentally waking up.”

“Ukoku, how could you?” Koumyou said. “You could have just let us go. There was no need for any of this. There was no need to kill two of my dearest friends.”

“Why would I let my father’s property just run off?” Ukoku retorted. “There are over a thousand Musicians producing and goods and services for NiiCom, and we’re supposed to just let more than a third of you go? And all but one of the Sanzos?”

“You’re not a real Sanzo,” Genjo said again.

Ukoku pointed at him. “Shut up,” he said. “I think it will be better to wipe the slate clean and have Musical leadership that is more in line with the company’s goals.” He regarded Koumyou. “I have to admit, you were very clever. I only recently found out about the significance of the ‘Outside the Domes’ scenario in the tests, and bravo to you for getting _all_ the Bodhisattvas involved. There is going to be some significant reprogramming in their future. But you really deserve kudos for stealing the GOKU Locus.”

He stepped down from the rocky outcrop and started walking toward Genjo and Goku. “I knew almost immediately after you disconnected him that something was wrong,” he said to Genjo. “You see, I have a lot of… side projects, shall we say?—that require a significant, and constant, amount of energy. But you were difficult to track down, and I didn’t expect you to travel separately.”

Genjo said nothing, and he continued to stand between Ukoku and Goku. He couldn’t see Goku, but he could feel the rise in Goku’s energy. Judging from the heat along his back, he figured Goku must be glowing pretty brightly.

Ukoku glanced at the receptor on Genjo’s forehead. “So, Sanzo Genjo, eh? What a promotion—last I knew, you had just ranked as a Composer. Daddy must be so proud. When I was his student, you were all I ever heard about; little Genjo this, and young Genjo that, and oh, I know Genjo is going to be a Sanzo some day. How does it feel, just being a pawn in Daddy’s game?”

“How does it feel, going through all that study and testing to be a Sanzo, just to have the Locus reject you?” Genjo said, looking pointedly at the colorless stone in the center of Ukoku’s forehead.

Ukoku struck him. “You better shut that pretty mouth of yours, or I’ll shut you up permanently,” he snarled.

The side of Genjo’s face stung from the blow, but he took a grim satisfaction from the fact that it had been the first impulsive thing he’d seen Ukoku do. Someone was upset that their receptor didn’t work.

“Don’t you touch him!” Goku shouted.

“Isn’t that sweet,” Ukoku said with a smirk. “Now Goku, it’s time to go back where you belong—my experiments are going to be ruined without all of that lovely energy of yours. Look at how much you’re wasting right now.”

“I’m not going back,” Goku said, and he put his arms around Genjo’s waist. “Don’t let him take me back,” he whispered against the nape of Genjo’s neck.

“I won’t,” Genjo murmured, and then he glared at Ukoku. “Leave him alone. Go ahead, take the rest of us back, but don’t lock him up again.”

Ukoku laughed. “Your music is just pretty noise without his energy to turn it into magic. All of you are useless without having a Locus to draw from—and NiiCom has no use for powerless tunes that can only produce illusions.” He gestured to a group of soldiers, who stepped forward to circle Genjo and Goku. “Come, Goku.”

There was a tense silence all around them.

“You’re useless, too” Goku said.

Ukoku frowned. “Beg pardon?”

“You can’t do anything without my energy, either,” Goku said, his voice rising. “I didn’t want to give it to you, and you took it anyway. You stole it from me. I’m not going to let you have anything from me, ever again.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Ukoku said grimly. He took a step closer. “Now, come—”

“No!” Goku shouted, and the word echoed through the valley as he flattened himself against Genjo’s back.

Genjo was unprepared for the enormous wave of energy that slammed into him. It buckled his knees, and when he staggered Goku held him closer. It was nothing like that first time of pleasure and pain in the Central Core; this was raw, blazing power that coursed through his chest, chased along his torso and legs, and shot down through his feet to saturate the earth beneath where they stood. The heat from Goku’s body made Genjo’s back feel like it was on fire, and when he lifted up his shaking hands he saw that he was glowing, far more brightly than after their lovemaking the night before.

The torrent of energy raging through him grew even stronger, full of Goku’s fear and anger, and as his body convulsed Genjo threw back his head and screamed.

Suspended in a sea of nerve-jangling pain, he felt disconnected, torn apart from himself. Power continued to pour through him like a sieve, making him shudder with its force. _Goku is giving his energy to the earth, through me,_ he realized, the thought pushing through the haze of pain. _He is energy. I am music. Together we are magic._

Genjo gave himself over to the power, and he felt it change, become lighter, flowing through him in a golden, molten stream. But the pain was now tinged with pleasure, as well as the awareness that at this moment he and Goku were joined in power, just as their bodies had been joined in passion the night before.

He was thrown back into himself when Ukoku grasped Goku’s arm and tried to wrench them apart. While Genjo tried to protest, Goku released him and turned toward Ukoku, and when the energy abruptly left him Genjo’s legs gave way. As he fell, Genjo turned with excruciating slowness to watch Goku grip Ukoku’s hand, and he saw surprise—and fear—replace Ukoku’s cocky expression. Goku’s mouth moved, but Genjo couldn’t hear what was said over the roaring in his ears. Ukoku began to shake, and the false Sanzo’s screams were the last thing Genjo heard before he gave himself over to the cool, blissful embrace of unconsciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

Genjo woke to the tickle of cool, damp grass beneath him, and when he opened his eyes he saw a vivid, cerulean sky.

“Ah, you’re back with us.” 

Genjo turned his head to see Hakkai smiling down at him. He heard Goku’s choked sob of relief, but when he tried to rise Hakkai pushed him gently back onto the grass.

“Not just yet,” Hakkai said. “I need to slow your heart rate down, and get some of your vitals back to normal. You had quite the adventure.”

Hakkai’s touch was gentle, as was the warm, healing magic that seeped through his aching body. Genjo recognized the familiar tune that Hakkai had hummed in the access tunnels. “Goku’s not touching you,” he said.

“No,” Hakkai agreed.

“Then how—?”

Hakkai smiled. “Goku—and you—turned the whole valley into a Locus.”

Genjo could feel the remnants of Goku’s energy in the ground beneath him, and suddenly, he remembered everything from before he’d passed out. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Not terribly long, a half hour, perhaps? I’m glad you’re awake now, Sanzo Koumyou and Goku have been… concerned.”

“Help me up,” he said to Hakkai. He needed to see what was going on, and find out what the hell had happened.

Hakkai and Gojyo helped Genjo to his feet, and Goku was a blur of motion as he ran over to wrap his arms around Genjo’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words muffled as he pressed his face against Genjo’s chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Genjo dropped his hand on top of Goku’s head and ruffled his soft, spiky hair. “You didn’t hurt me.” He noticed that the faint glow that had always surrounded Goku was gone, although he could still sense traces of the power that had surged through him earlier.

“Genjo.” Koumyou strode over to where he stood, lines of worry etched deep in his face. Goku stepped aside, and Koumyou pulled Genjo into a tight embrace. “What were you thinking, goading Ukoku like that?”

“I wasn’t going to let him take Goku, Dad.”

“Well, the two of you certainly ruined his plans.” Koumyou took a step back and lifted his hands to frame Genjo’s face. “I don’t know how you managed to survive that, son. It’s one thing to access the Locus, and another thing entirely to act as his conduit. Channeling that amount of energy would have killed me or Sharak.” 

Genjo decided not to share the fact that he'd been accessing the Locus in what would be considered a very non-standard way the night before. Several times, in fact. And once again when they'd woken up that morning.

He gently disengaged himself from his father’s grasp. “Where are the soldiers?” he asked, craning his neck to look around where they stood. “And what happened to Ukoku? The last thing I heard was him screaming.” 

“Ukoku is not going to be a problem any more,” Koumyou said.

Genjo glanced at Goku, who hovered nearby. “Goku, you said something to him, did something to him, right before I lost consciousness. Did you kill him?” 

Goku shook his head. “That would have been too easy on him. I took his music away instead.”

Koumyou unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snort. “You did a little more than that, young man.”

“Ukoku’s lucky that he knows his name, much less anything else.” Gojyo said. He turned to Genjo. “The soldiers got all nervous when you screamed and started glowing like a reactor, and when the earthquake hit most of them dropped their weapons and ran off. Me and some of the other Musicians snagged the ones who were still here.”

“Sharak and Hassan are taking them—and Ukoku—back to the Southern Dome hatch,” Koumyou added.

Goku scuffed his boot on the ground, kicking up a tuft of grass. “He wanted to put me back in that place. And he wanted to hurt all of you.” His gaze flew up to meet Genjo’s. “But I… didn’t want to kill him. When he grabbed me I decided to connect with him, and take his music away so that he could never make magic again.” He ducked his head. “I think I ended up taking more than his music.”

“Remind me never to piss you off, kiddo,” Gojyo said, lightly punching Goku in the arm. 

“I don’t want your music, it’s crappy,” Goku retorted, and the two of them started a friendly tussle.

Genjo felt Koumyou’s hand rest on his shoulder. “The entire valley is a Locus,” Koumyou said. “I can feel it, can you? Goku poured his power into the earth, through you, and now he can live the rest of his life as man, instead of an energy source.” He squeezed Genjo’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Genjo.”

Genjo shook his head. “It was you who made this happen. And it was Kanzeon’s idea to get Goku.” He saw his father’s gaze shift away, and frowned. “Dad? Did you know about Goku?”

“I had…suspicions,” Koumyou admitted. “Things didn’t quite add up. There were times when I would talk to the Locus while I worked a piece of magic, and I could swear that I could sense a response, faint though it was.”

“Goku knew,” Genjo said. “He said he liked it when you talked to him.”

Koumyou smiled. “He didn’t communicate or manifest like the Bodhisattvas, but I sensed emotion in his energy, something I never encountered when I accessed the NATAKU Locus. I tried to investigate—I put in a request to gain access to the Central Core last year—but NiiCom denied my request.”

“And the Bodhisattvas can’t manifest there.”

“That’s right. And that just made me all the more determined to know the truth.” Koumyou watched as Goku laughed and tackled Gojyo to the ground. “I took advantage of you, Genjo. I used your beautiful score as the catalyst of our escape, and when I petitioned for your Elevation I hoped that having a sixth Sanzo would create a glitch in the system that we could use to our advantage.”

“So that I could go to the Central Core,” Genjo said.

Koumyou nodded. “And free Goku, in whatever form you found him. Kanzeon was more than willing to help. I’m sorry that I used you.”

“Don’t be,” Genjo said. “If you had seen him, you would have done everything in your power to free him, and make sure he was never forced to do anything again.”

“And he followed you here,” Koumyou said, smiling.

Genjo wasn’t sure he liked that smile; it suggested that his father had another suspicion, this one about him and Goku. He needed a distraction. “Hakkai!” he shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Are we going to build this village, or not?”

A loud cheer rose up from the hundreds of Musicians that surrounded them.

Hakkai appeared at his side. “Genjo,” he said, “shouldn’t we wait? You just went through an ordeal, you should rest.”

“Fuck rest,” Genjo said. “Who knows how long Goku’s energy will stay in this valley? It might be years, it might be hours. Let’s do this.”

“Very well,” Hakkai said.

They walked to the the rocky outcrop where Ukoku had stood earlier, stepping up to stand together on the flat front ledge of the rock. Hakkai raised his hand. “Musicians!” he called. “Gather your instruments and meet your Section Leaders so that you can assemble your section. Keep your gear with you, and once the full-sized outlines appear, make sure you are fully within the main Plaza.”

The Musicians cheered again, and the air was soon filled with excited chatter and the preparing of instruments.

Hakkai turned to Genjo and held out his hand. “Your score, Sanzo Genjo?”

Genjo unfastened the scroll case, removed the score and handed it to Hakkai. “Get them ready, Concertmaster.”


	14. Chapter 14

Hakkai laid the score on the rough sandstone and carefully unrolled it, positioning it about a foot from where Genjo stood. “Here are those spots we spoke about yesterday,” he told Genjo, and he pointed out Kanzeon’s changes and additions to the score. Genjo nodded with approval; they would start with this more modest village, and expand when needed.

“Genjo.”

Genjo looked over and saw his father and Goku standing at the rock’s base. “Yes?”

“I have something for you,” Koumyou said, and he held out a long, slender wood case.

Genjo took the case from him and opened it. Within, on a bed of soft velvet, lay a carved wood baton, inlaid with swirls of silver wire. “But… this is yours.”

Koumyou grinned. “Yes, and now it’s yours. A Conductor needs a baton.”

“You’re not going to help?”

“Oh, I’ll be helping—I’ll be out there making sure everything follows your score. Sharak and Hassan will be back soon, and they will assist as well. But this is your score, Sanzo Genjo, and you should conduct it.” He strolled off, stopping to chat with the Section Leaders.

Genjo lifted the baton from its velvet bed and set the box down. As a young boy he had loved to watch Koumyou conduct, captivated by the way the silver in the carved wood would glow with Koumyou’s power, leaving ghostly trails in the air as Koumyou’s hands flashed up, down, left, right, while he guided his Musicians through a score. 

And now he would guide these Musicians, raise power with them, and make magic.

“This is going to get turned into a city? With buildings and houses and stuff?” Goku rested his elbows on the ledge while he peered at the score. “I just see a bunch of dots and squiggles.”

Genjo bent down and touched the preview button, amused at the way Goku jumped back when the mini-hologram of the city appeared. “The ‘dots and squiggles’ are the music, Goku, and with your energy it will become magic that will create the buildings.”

“I want to be up there with you,” Goku said. “I have some energy left, I want to help.”

“Come on up, then—but be careful of the score,” Genjo said as Goku clambered up onto the ledge. “Sit here, at my feet; you won’t get in my way and you’ll see everything.”

“Okay!” Goku sat, cross-legged, on the rock and leaned back against Genjo’s legs. 

Genjo felt Goku’s now-familiar warmth seep through his pants leg, into his skin, and he was reminded of how Goku’s naked back had felt against his chest while he had taken Goku from behind in a rough, hungry coupling earlier that morning. _Stop it,_ he told himself, and he focused on the tiny city at his feet. This was for real, and he needed to concentrate fully on the task at hand.

He surveyed the area around him; the Section Leaders were almost done getting their people ready, and when he looked across the meadow Koumyou waved at him. He glanced at the opposite end and saw Sharak and Hassan cresting the hill, and he waited while she took her place outside the crowd, standing opposite Koumyou.

When everyone was ready Hakkai returned to the rock, holding a violin. He raised the instrument to his shoulder, tucked his chin against the rest, and drew his bow across the strings. 

The sound of an A note filled the air, and when the earth pulsed beneath them Genjo felt its power curl at the base of his spine. Goku gazed up at him, his golden eyes glowing. 

An excited murmur rose up around them, and the air was soon filled with the dissonance of hundreds of instruments tuning to that single note. When the newly assembled Orchestra played the note again, it was fuller, richer, and as the sound swept over him Genjo felt the small hairs rise on the back of his neck.

He raised his arms, the wooden baton pointing toward the sky, and silence fell across the valley.

The score began to glow, and its edges rippled as power flowed into it. Ghostly, pale blue outlines of the city appeared around them, faint at first but gradually brightening until the outline of every building, every walkway, and every stone of the central plaza shone brightly around them. There was some rustling as the Musicians moved inside the perimeter of the plaza, and then there was silence once more. 

Genjo met Gojyo’s gaze across the meadow, and when Gojyo nodded Genjo brought down the baton.

The bass drums were first, sounding off with deep, resonating booms that repeated in a syncopated beat. The earth beneath them trembled as a network of underground pipes were created in a variety of sizes, from the wide pipes that would used for the city’s septic system to the water lines that would bring fresh water from the river that ran through the valley. Genjo’s hands moved, adding more percussion to lay in the drain fields at the far end of the valley. Rough-hewn fieldstone appeared beneath their feet as the central plaza formed, and a maze of cobblestone walkways appeared and wound their way throughout the city. The rock where Genjo stood morphed into a paved platform.

Energy flowed through Genjo, from both the earth below him and the Locus who sat at his feet. He found it interesting that not only was Goku glowing, but so was the entire valley floor.

It was time to lay the foundations. Genjo lowered his left hand to quiet the percussion section, and he looked over at Kougaiji and pointed the baton in his direction. Seconds later, the deep, sonorous tones of dozens of tubas, euphonium and horns began their work of creating foundations for the hundreds of homes and buildings that would fill the valley’s center. The city’s outline shimmered as those portions solidified, and Genjo added the bright, bell-like notes of the xylophones to lay in radiant heating that would warm the buildings in the winters to come.

He scanned the clearing to check on the other Sanzos; he saw Koumyou assisting Gojyo’s group with finishing off the plumbing work, while Sharak checked the larger foundations, with Hassan’s help. 

Genjo turned to Goujun in the woodwinds section, and gestured for him to begin. The silver wires in Genjo’s baton glowed as he led them in a swift, steady rhythm, and walls rose from the foundations and began to form, capped by ceilings and roofs. Flutes and oboes trilled as electrical wires ran within the new walls and ceilings, and when the saxophones joined in, doors and windows appeared.

They were almost done. 

Hakkai was ready for him, and at the flick of Genjo’s baton music from the strings section joined with the rest of the Orchestra. A myriad of colors splashed on the walls as the bass and cellos played in tandem. The violas joined in, creating shimmering, gleaming glass in the doors and windows of each building. Hakkai stood with several dozen violinists, bows at the ready, and when the last sheet of glass was in place Hakkai raised his bow in the air.

With a sweep of his hands Genjo silenced the other instruments, and then he pointed at Hakkai.

The violinists began to play. Pebbled mosaics appeared as some of the players plucked at their strings, and intricate arabesque patterns curled and twined along the upper edges of the common buildings when the other players drew their bows across the strings. More decorative flourishes came next, adding individuality to the hundreds of houses that surrounded the Plaza. 

The final notes of their melody finished, then Genjo brought the entire Orchestra back in to finish the score. The music was full and rich, filling the valley with its magic, and the as the earth rumbled once more beneath them, Genjo felt the power rise in him. He raised his hands, releasing the power throughout the city, and the houses and buildings shimmered brightly as they were finalized. 

The power returned to the earth, and the Musicians stood, silent, in the middle of their new home.

“Musicians,” Koumyou said, striding into the Plaza, “you have all performed brilliantly. Look at this beautiful village you have made.” He gestured at the bold curves of the tall building that stood behind Genjo. “Genjo designed this building as our new Concert Hall,” he said. “This place is for us to make music—for ourselves and no one else, whether we use it to create magic or we simply to share our music with each other. Because we are now free, and no one will ever force us to use our Gifts against our will again.”

A thunderous cheer rose up from the Musicians, and they set down their instruments and applauded.

Hakkai’s gaze met his, and Genjo nodded, raising his baton one last time.

The sweet, bright sound of a single violin quieted the crowd. As Hakkai played, a gold spire emerged from the top-most point of the Concert Hall, twisting and ascending until it tapered off to a high, shining point that seemed to touch the sky.

Genjo lowered the baton, and the score at his feet ceased glowing and rolled itself back up. He held out a hand to Goku and helped him to his feet.

“Welcome home, my friends,” Koumyou said.

The Musicians applauded again, and then they began to disperse, happy, excited chatter filling the air while they explored the buildings and began choosing their new homes.

“I want to pick a house too!” Goku said, and he ran off to explore. 

“We did it!” Gojyo exclaimed as he joined them the the Plaza. “We really did it. Got to hand it to you, Genjo, you made a damn fine place to live.”

“Thanks,” Genjo said. He replaced the baton in its case and tucked it in his back pocket, and then he stepped down off the platform.

“That was a nice touch at the end, there, Hakkai,” Gojyo said.

“Thank you, Gojyo,” Hakkai said.

Genjo extended a hand. “I couldn’t have asked for a better Concertmaster,” he told Hakkai. “I appreciate all the work you put into my score. I think it went so smoothly today because of your hard work.”

Hakkai shook his hand. “It was my pleasure. I think will always consider what we’ve done today to be one of my life’s greatest accomplishments.” He turned and shook Koumyou’s hand. “Sanzo Koumyou, thank you. Without you, we would not be standing here today.”

“You play that instrument beautifully,” Koumyou said. “Have you ever used it to create a sculpture?” He pointed to the platform where Genjo had conducted the Orchestra. “I would like to create a memorial here, honoring Sanzo Goudai and Sanzo Tenkai.”

Hakkai gave a slight bow. “It would be my honor.”

Gojyo glanced up at the pink-tinged sky. “We ought to start looking for our house, babe—I’d like to sleep under a roof tonight.”

“Hey, Genjo!” Goku called from the other side of the village. He was leaning out of the upper-floor window of the house Genjo had designed for himself, a small, cozy place that was nestled in the woods, right in front of the gently rising slope of the mountains. “Let’s live in this house! I like it, it reminds me of you. It already has furniture in it!” He disappeared for a few seconds, and then he came back again. “There’s a bed in here, too, and it’s super comfortable.”

Genjo felt heat rise in his cheeks as he became the focus of a number of speculative gazes.

“Looks like Goku picked his housemate,” Gojyo said, and he dropped an arm across Hakkai’s shoulders. “Me, I’ve already got mine. Hakkai, there’s our place, over near the river.”

“You’re right, and It looks perfect,” Hakkai said. “Plenty of room for a garden.” They waved to Goku and walked off, leaving Genjo and Koumyou standing alone in the plaza.

“It’s _my_ house,” Genjo muttered. “That’s why there’s furniture. And it’s _my_ bed.”

Koumyou smiled at him. “Somehow, I don’t think you’ll mind sharing your house and bed with him. Go, make your new home—and your new life—with Goku. I’ll be just over the hill.” He patted Genjo’s shoulder and walked away.

Genjo watched while Koumyou walked along the newly made walkway toward the small cottage that awaited him at the top of the valley. Genjo heard him whistling, and he watched in amazement when the ground at Koumyou’s feet glowed. Behind him, flowers began rising and blooming along the sides of the cobblestone track, and dozens of tender tree saplings came up around the main plaza.

_It looks like magic will stay, for awhile, anyway,_ Genjo thought. He looked over at Goku, who still stood at his bedroom window, watching Koumyou’s antics with a pleased smile on his face. Goku glanced back at him, his smile widening, and then he winked and jerked his head toward the inside of the room before he pulled off his shirt and disappeared from view.

Genjo’s gaze remained on the empty window. There were so many things that needed doing; while the Musicians were settling into their new homes he should walk through his new village and inspect his work, and then he should probably talk to Sharak and Hassan about their unscheduled trip back to the Domes.

But the sun was beginning to set, and Goku was in his bed, naked and waiting for him. Genjo wanted nothing more than to join him there; to shed his clothes and responsibilities and lose himself in Goku’s body, where he would spend all night making music from Goku’s moans of pleasure. 

He wondered what kind of magic _that_ would make.

_-fin-_


End file.
